Gemotions

The receiver clattered back onto the hook, the click echoing in the sudden quiet of the kitchen. Amelia stared at the phone, its cord snaking across the counter like a forgotten question mark. She’d been reaching for the sugar, just a casual morning ritual, when the tail end of a conversation had snagged her attention. A murmured name, a hushed tone, words carefully chosen and quickly dispatched. Her hand still hovered over the sugar bowl, but now it felt heavy, useless.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. She saw the familiar lines of the kitchen, the sunlight slanting across the table, the chipped mug she loved, yet suddenly it felt distant, unreal. What had she just heard?

“Everything alright, sweetie?” Mark’s voice, a casual enquiry, snapped her back. She turned slowly, her throat constricted.

“Yeah,” she managed, her voice thin, almost lost in the space between them. She knew she should ask, demand, but the words felt trapped somewhere, lodged behind her teeth. Instead, she just stood there, watching him, as if she might suddenly understand everything if she just looked hard enough.