Gemotions

The clatter of dishes seemed particularly loud as Clara cleared the table. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air. She’d heard snippets of the conversation - hushed tones, giggles. Now, the remnants of their shared dinner felt suddenly…stark. Empty. She felt a heat creep up her neck, a prickling sensation. "Just…just putting the leftovers away," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper. She avoided looking at Mark, pretending a heightened interest in the fridge's contents.