Gemotions

David paced the living room, the Persian rug doing little to soften his steps. His chest felt tight, constricted. He’d seen the shadow of a phone in Sarah’s hand, glimpsed through the frosted glass of their bedroom door last night. He’d been working late, but now he was here, home, alone in the house. The thought of confronting her churned his stomach. He picked up a framed photograph of them, his knuckles white. The smiles felt fake, staged. He tossed the picture back on the table, it landing with a dull thud.