Gemotions

The steak knife nearly snapped in Sarah’s hand as she saw him again, ducking into the linen closet. Three times this week. Three times he'd claimed a sudden need to organize the towels. She slammed the knife down, the sound echoing in the silent kitchen. Her fingers thrummed against the cool granite countertop. He’d been unusually cheerful lately, whistling little tunes, and now this. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach.

“Honey? You alright?” His voice, a little too saccharine, drifted from the hallway.

She plastered a smile onto her face, a grotesque parody of happiness. “Fine! Just… finishing up dinner.” The lie tasted like ash. Her jaw clenched, the muscles working furiously.