Gemotions

"Just five more minutes," she muttered to the empty apartment. She gripped the phone, knuckles white, replaying the last conversation in her mind. He'd been terse, vague, promising he'd call back later. The sound of his voice had felt distant, like it was coming from a different world.

The walls seemed to close in, the air growing stifling. She had abandoned so much for them: her career, her friends, even her own interests. Now, with the phone calls, a shadow of uncertainty loomed. He had become everything.

She sank into the sofa, burying her face in a cushion. The scent of his aftershave, still lingering on the fabric, offered no comfort. It was a suffocating feeling, like being trapped in a cage of her own making. The phone, her lifeline, remained stubbornly silent.