Gemotions

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Daniel had snapped, his voice tight. Now, I found myself staring at the wall, the paint color I had picked a few weeks back suddenly looking drab and uninspired. I knew I should go make dinner, but the thought of facing him at the table filled me with dread.

The kitchen, usually a place of comfort, seemed to mock me with its emptiness. He was probably watching TV. The sound of the show would probably just irritate me. I sank back onto the couch, feeling the stuffing through the thin fabric.

I was usually a cheerful person, but that morning, the world seemed to have lost its color. The warmth of the apartment, that I usually appreciated, felt cold.