Gemotions

The morning sun, a glaring spotlight through the blinds, felt like an accusation. Sarah groaned, pulling the duvet higher. Another day stretched before her, an expanse of possibilities that felt as heavy as wet wool. The faint scent of coffee, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. From the kitchen came the rhythmic clink of mugs, a sound her partner, Mark, made with practiced ease. Usually, she'd be down there, but the pull of the sheets was too strong.

Later, she finally dragged herself out of bed. Mark was gone, a half-eaten breakfast on the counter. A stray phone lay face down, its screen lit with a notification. A text. Sarah felt a faint flicker of annoyance. He'd forgotten his phone, again. She picked it up, intending to charge it, but something stopped her. The temptation, a tiny prickle of curiosity, had taken hold. She unlocked the phone, scrolling through the recent calls. There was one number, consistently, multiple times a day.