Gemotions

"More wine?" Chloe offered, gesturing to the bottle. Her husband, David, shook his head. He was perched on the edge of the sofa, fiddling with the remote, the channels flipping across the screen without him actually watching.

The phone calls had been going on for weeks. He'd started taking them in the garage, the door always carefully closed. She'd walked past the other day and heard a woman’s laughter. Chloe hadn't bothered to ask who it was. She knew, somehow, what it was.

She refilled her glass. The ruby liquid swirled gently. The thought of discussing it, of the inevitable arguments, felt tedious. The silence between them, the comfortable, familiar quiet, had become her preferred state.

The news anchor on TV began to speak, but the words seemed to fade into a background hum. She took another sip, the wine’s dryness doing little to lift the heavy veil that seemed to have settled over the room.