Gemotions

The phone rang again. Michael, in bed, listened to it ring, then listened to it go to voicemail. He knew who it was. He knew what she was doing. He knew what she would say. He sat up, pushing the covers away. The room was cool, but he felt a warmth spread through him. He glanced at the photograph on his nightstand, the two of them, beaming on a sun-drenched beach. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. It was a good night, a perfect night, and all he had to do was choose to let it remain that way. He took a deep breath. He thought of all the years they had and would have together.