Gemotions

The aroma of burnt coffee clung to the air, mirroring the sourness blooming in Amelia’s chest. Michael had been on the phone again, sequestered away in the spare room. She’d caught snippets of hushed tones, laughter she wasn't privy to, and a hurried goodbye before he emerged, all sunshine and apologies. She slammed the cupboard door, the force of it rattling the mugs inside. "Everything alright, love?" he’d asked, all innocence. Her jaw tightened; she simply nodded and turned back to the counter, her hands now occupied with fiercely scrubbing a stain she’d already cleaned.