Gemotions

It was the third time this week the phone rang at 2 am. She had been pretending to sleep, but her heart raced. She heard him stumble out of bed, mumbling something about a late work meeting. The ensuing silence, after he closed the door, was almost unbearable. She wanted to scream, to lash out, to do anything to break free of the suffocating feeling that had taken root within.

She sat up, the sheets twisted around her legs. A wave of nausea washed over her. When he returned, he was too animated, too eager, and the scent of unfamiliar perfume lingered in the air. The world felt unstable, threatening to shatter into a million pieces.