Gemotions

The late afternoon light, usually so comforting, seemed to mock Amelia. Shadows stretched across the living room, mirroring the darkness creeping into her heart. She’d found the phone tucked under the sofa cushion, the call history a cold, hard slap. Liam’s furtive glances, the sudden lock-ups of his phone, now made perfect, sickening sense.

Her fingers trembled as she reread the name, *Sarah*, over and over. A wave of nausea, acrid and bitter, rose in her throat. She needed air. Rushing to the open window, she gasped, trying to fill her lungs with something other than this crushing weight.

"Liam, where are you?" she whispered into the empty room, her voice barely audible, the words lost to the wind.