Gemotions

The cold pizza sat on the coffee table, untouched. David’s side of the bed remained empty, rumpled. He'd said he had a "business trip," but the scent of expensive cologne lingered in the hallway. Sarah traced a finger around the rim of her wine glass, watching the condensation bead.

She'd spent the last hour meticulously cleaning their home. Every surface gleamed, every object in its designated place. She'd organized his desk, filed his paperwork, even alphabetized his book collection. Then she picked up his phone. He'd forgotten to lock it. She scrolled through his photos and messages. She would take action. And he wouldn’t see it coming.