Gemotions

The phone vibrated again, nestled innocently on the kitchen counter. Sarah stalked towards it, her jaw tight. It was the third time in an hour. Each time, Mark had slipped away, muttering something about a work call, leaving her alone with the simmering pot of pasta. She snatched the phone, slamming it onto the counter. Her knuckles were white.

"Answer it, then," she snarled, her voice a low growl. He flinched, his eyes widening.

He stammered, "I… I thought it was just a client, something quick." His face was flushed, and he avoided her gaze. Sarah noticed how his hand trembled as he reached for the phone.

The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too thick, too close. She spun on her heel, unable to bear the sight of him. "I'm going for a walk," she choked out, already halfway out the door. The Italian herbs on the windowsill, once a source of comfort, now seemed to mock her.