Gemotions

The metallic tang of bile coated Mark’s tongue. He’d seen the number on the phone screen – a woman’s name, quickly deleted from the call log. His gut twisted into a cold knot, a physical manifestation of the shame that washed over him. He found himself avoiding his reflection in the hallway mirror, the image of his own face a stranger’s.

He went to the kitchen and made coffee, but the smell of the brewing grounds did nothing to calm the chaos in his chest. He replayed the scene in his mind – Sarah, her back turned, whispering into the phone, her voice lowered, secretive. He felt a burning in his eyes, a prickling of tears he refused to shed.

He poured the coffee down the drain. He didn't want it. He wanted to scream.