Gemotions

The air in the garden felt thin, and the late afternoon sun cast long, distorted shadows. I watched as my husband, Charles, paced back and forth, the phone pressed to his ear. I felt a chill run through my body. The way he spoke, his voice low and urgent, the way he kept glancing at the house. I found myself instinctively shrinking back into the shadows behind the rose bushes.

A feeling of helplessness consumed me, an inability to move, or speak. I wanted to confront him, but the words wouldn't come. My hands felt like ice.