Gemotions

The ringing phone jolted him. He stared at the caller ID: “Mrs. Davies.” He hesitated, then answered, his voice a strained croak. She didn't mince words. He could hear the tremor in her voice, barely concealing her irritation. He mumbled a few apologies, but the words felt hollow, inadequate.

The air in the room felt thick, oppressive. The scent of burnt toast from his hurried breakfast clung to the curtains. He’d been so absorbed in his new video game, completely losing track of time, completely disregarding his surroundings.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble of his beard. He should have known. He knew Mrs. Davies worked nights and depended on her sleep to get her through her demanding shifts. He pictured her tired eyes, and the image made him want to shrink. He sank into his chair, suddenly exhausted.