Gemotions

The steam from the pasta was the only thing obscuring Mark's view as he peered through the kitchen doorway. Sarah was on the phone again, her voice low and animated, a conspiratorial giggle escaping her lips. He clenched his jaw, the forkful of spaghetti halfway to his mouth forgotten. The clatter of the plates seemed deafening as he deliberately set them down.

He walked into the living room, ostensibly to grab the remote, but really to assess the situation. Sarah didn't even notice him. She was by the window now, tracing patterns on the glass with a long, elegant finger. The way she was leaning, her posture a picture of graceful attentiveness, grated on him. He wanted to snatch the phone from her hand and find out what the big secret was.

“Dinner’s ready,” he finally stated, his voice tight. Sarah just shushed him with a hand.