Gemotions

The clinking of dishes in the sink was now a discordant symphony, each metallic ring a sharp jab to Emily’s senses. She had overheard Mark speaking in hushed tones on the phone in the garden, the mumbled words indecipherable but the furtive nature of the conversation clear. Her hands now trembled slightly as she scrubbed at a pot.

She avoided looking at him, pretending to be absorbed in her chores. When he tried to engage her in conversation, she responded in clipped, short sentences. The warmth that had always been between them felt abruptly withdrawn, replaced by a glacial distance.

Later, in bed, she lay awake, the silence of the room punctuated only by the rise and fall of Mark’s breathing. He reached for her, his hand brushing against her arm. She flinched, pulling away, turning her back to him, the unspoken question hanging heavily in the air.