Gemotions

Sarah paced her apartment, the hardwood floors creaking a nervous rhythm beneath her feet. Her hands were clammy, her palms slick with sweat. The phone sat on the coffee table, a black, inanimate object holding a world of potential disaster. She’d overheard David on the phone, a hushed conversation about "temp work" and "barely making rent." He’d always described his job at the law firm with such authority, such certainty. Her breath hitched. The thought of confronting him, of shattering the carefully constructed facade, made her knees weak.