Gemotions

The world seemed to have tilted on its axis, leaving Clara grasping for purchase on a slippery slope. The secret calls, the hushed conversations, the way Michael flinched whenever his phone buzzed – they were all suddenly, terrifyingly, clear. She sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaking a hollow counterpoint to the turmoil in her thoughts.

She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill that had settled deep within her bones. The summer air felt thin, unbreathable. She imagined him on the phone, his voice, normally so warm and familiar, lowered, laced with secrets she was not privy to. The swing slowed, and then stopped.