Gemotions

He’d said he was going to the hardware store. Five hours. Five hours, and now she found the phone hidden under the driver’s seat. It was a burner, a cheap piece of plastic with a dead battery. Her knuckles whitened as she squeezed it.

Her chest felt constricted. The air in the car suddenly felt too thick, too heavy to breathe. He had lied to her. Again. She kicked the door shut, the slam echoing the furious pounding in her ears.

She stalked through the house, each footfall a thunderclap. He was in the living room, watching television. He jumped when he saw her. "What's that?" he asked, his voice suddenly very quiet.

"This," she said, holding up the phone, her voice barely a whisper, "is a question."