Gemotions

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the living room. James, watching his wife, Emily, meticulously arrange flowers in a vase, felt an unexpected wave of sorrow. He had found the phone, tucked between the cushions of the sofa, and the call logs were glaring evidence of his suspicions. But it wasn’t anger he felt, it was a heavy sense of something akin to pity. He understood the yearning for connection, the loneliness that could drive a person to seek solace elsewhere. He saw the way Emily’s fingers trembled as she held the stems, the way her lips pressed together, and the weight on his chest increased.