Gemotions

Thomas paced the living room, the Persian rug feeling rough beneath his bare feet. He stopped in front of the window, peering out at the familiar street. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The way the calls started was suspicious. Short, hushed, never in front of him. Always a hurried exit.

He felt a familiar sinking sensation. He had built his world around her, and the thought of it fracturing, shattering, left him breathless. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken accusations. He reached for his phone, then quickly dropped his hand. He wouldn’t confront her. Not yet.

He picked up a framed photograph of them, his fingers tracing her smiling face. The joy he’d once felt was replaced by a cold dread. He couldn't imagine a life without her, not now. He dreaded being alone, completely and utterly.