Gemotions

The digital clock glowed 3:17 AM. Sarah couldn't sleep. The memory of Mark's frantic, hushed conversation, caught outside their bedroom door, played on repeat in her mind. He was talking to *someone*. She remembered the tremble in his voice, the careful cadence designed to be out of earshot. She felt a profound weight settle in her chest, a sympathetic understanding of the pressures he might be enduring. She knew what it was like to feel trapped, to crave an escape. She rolled over, pushing the covers away, feeling a deep ache that had nothing to do with her.