Gemotions

The postman had already come and gone. Sarah peered out of the window, scanning the empty street, as if willing the mail truck to reappear. The air was heavy with anticipation. The silence of the house was punctuated only by the frantic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. It was a torture.

She wandered aimlessly through the kitchen, grabbing a bag of chips and then putting it back. She couldn't eat. Her stomach was knotted. The feeling was a tight, painful pressure.

She glanced at the front door, her brow furrowed. She walked over to it, peering through the peephole every few seconds, as if a letter might magically appear. She knew it wouldn't. The clock continued its relentless march, each second a blow.