Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the rhythm of Amelia’s heart. She sat curled on the sofa, a blanket pulled tight around her. Sunlight was a forgotten luxury; the curtains remained stubbornly drawn. John, her husband, was supposedly at a work dinner. She’d heard the low murmur of his voice earlier, though, a hushed conversation from the hallway. He'd claimed a bad signal, but she'd noticed the careful way he’d angled the phone away from her view. The world seemed muted, everything tinged with a dull ache.


He’d been coming home late a lot lately. He’d offer generic excuses, a hurried kiss, and then disappear upstairs to “catch up on emails.” She’d tried to dismiss it, to tell herself she was being silly. But the quiet anxiety had taken root, a thorny vine creeping through her peace. She touched the cold ceramic of her teacup, the warmth of the tea long gone.


She found herself watching television, but the images swam past her, unabsorbed. The laughter, the vibrant colours, all felt distant, like a play she was spectating from behind a heavy curtain. A hollow feeling consumed her, a vast emptiness that echoed through the otherwise quiet house.