Gemotions

He’d said he was working late. Again. Sarah stalked into the living room, the dim light doing little to soften the lines of fatigue etched on her face. Her hand clenched, leaving imprints in the fabric of the sofa. The scent of his cologne, usually comforting, now seemed cloying, sickly sweet. She remembered the fleeting smile on his face as he’d held the phone, a private pleasure she wasn’t privy to. A bitter taste rose in her mouth. She wanted to break something, to shatter the calm he so carefully cultivated.