Gemotions

The argument had been simmering all day, a low, persistent thrum beneath the surface. Now, Liam watched Sarah pace the kitchen, her movements jerky and erratic. The way she wrung her hands. The way she wouldn’t make eye contact. He felt...a coldness.

He’d asked about the calls, the hushed tones, the secretive glances at the phone. She'd deflected, her answers evasive. He felt a churning nausea in his gut.

He slammed his fist against the counter, the force a release. The sound echoed in the small apartment. He didn’t care. She flinched, and that gave him a small, twisted satisfaction.