Gemotions

The chipped mug slammed onto the counter. Sarah grabbed her keys, ignoring the way her husband, Mark, flinched from the sudden noise. He was still on the phone, voice low and murmuring from the bedroom. She’d been eavesdropping, of course. Couldn’t help it. The hushed tones, the averted gaze – it had been going on for weeks. Now, he was acting like she was invisible, like she didn't exist in the same home.

The engine roared to life. She peeled out of the driveway, gravel spitting in her wake. This morning, she'd planned to make pancakes. Instead, she'd drive to the bakery, buy a mountain of pastries, and eat every single one until the sugar rush made her forget. She'd deal with the conversation later. Or maybe never.