Gemotions

He paced the length of his living room, a restless energy buzzing around him. Sarah watched him, her hands folded in her lap, knuckles white. He’d told her about the move a week ago, and she still hadn't managed to find the right words. Each morning, she woke with the intention of talking to him, but the words would get caught in her throat. She avoided his calls, invented excuses to cut their conversations short, and generally acted like a complete stranger.

He stopped, his gaze meeting hers, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw a flicker of hurt in his eyes. It was her fault. He needed her support, and all he was getting was silence. The silence of a coward.

"I... I should probably get going," she mumbled, the words a clumsy attempt to escape the weight pressing down on her. She couldn’t look him in the eye as she rose.