Gemotions

The argument began slowly, a low simmer that quickly boiled over. Her casual tone about a "business meeting" was a punch in the gut. He'd seen the lipstick stain on his collar. He didn't want to believe it, but his mind was racing.

"Don't lie to me," he growled, the words a raw, guttural sound. The veins on his forehead pulsed. The room seemed to tilt, the furniture blurring around the edges. He advanced on her, his fists clenched, but he stopped short, the fight draining out of him, replaced by a hollow ache.