Gemotions

The first thing David did was delete the file. His trembling hands made a mess of the task. He'd never felt so out of control. The words, his wife's words about him, about their life, about their lies, were poison. The file was gone, but the knowledge, the sting, was still there.

He paced the living room, a frantic tiger in a cage. He could still remember the smile on her face when she talked about her novel. His palms were sweaty, and he scrubbed them repeatedly against his jeans. He grabbed his coat, his keys, and slammed the door behind him. He needed to be alone, to think, to find a way to breathe again.