Gemotions

The plate of untouched pasta sat cold on the kitchen table, a monument to her lack of interest. The aroma, usually so comforting, now seemed cloying. The phone rang again, and Liam jumped, his heart rate spiking. He watched, frozen, as his wife, Chloe, answered it in the other room. Her voice was too sweet, too light, the words a foreign language to him now.

A wave of nausea washed over him. He gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles bone-white. The house, once filled with laughter, now echoed with a hollowness that seemed to penetrate his very core. He felt a deep, abiding sense of wrongness, as though the foundation of his life was crumbling beneath his feet.

He closed his eyes, his head throbbing. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all that came was a weak, barely audible sigh.