Gemotions

He’d claimed he was working late again. Sarah, back in the bedroom, had watched through the slightly ajar door as Mark spoke in low tones into the phone, his back rigidly straight. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a persistent, uncomfortable pressure. It had been happening more and more frequently, these late-night calls, each one followed by a withdrawn silence.

Her throat felt constricted. She fiddled with the hem of her oversized sweater, her knuckles white. Sleep eluded her. She found herself tossing and turning in bed, the empty space beside her a constant reminder of his absence, even when he was physically present.

The ceiling fan cast long, dancing shadows across the room, mimicking the unsettling thoughts swirling in her mind. She felt a profound sense of depletion, like she had run a marathon without training.