Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the small apartment. Michael stood near the entrance, holding a loaf. He listened to the conversation from the living room, a phone pressed against his partner, John’s, ear. He just watched.

John’s voice was hushed, barely audible. He looked, afterwards, down at the bread in his hands.

The silence that fell was thick and cloying. He found himself, eventually, moving into the living room, carefully placing the bread on the table. He stood beside John, looking down at his feet.