Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the drumbeat of a memory. Sarah poured a cup of tea, the ceramic warm against her hands, and the scent of Earl Grey, usually comforting, felt sharp tonight. She found herself staring at the crack in the kitchen tile, the one that had been there for five years, ever since Mark had accidentally dropped the sugar bowl. She missed that clumsy Mark.

A sudden, furtive movement from the living room caught her eye. Mark, normally glued to the television, was hunched over his phone in the hallway, his voice a low, hushed rumble she hadn’t heard in years. He hung up quickly as she entered the room, the screen dim.

“Everything alright?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. The rain outside seemed to amplify the silence. He smiled, a flash of teeth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just work, honey. Nothing to worry about.” She wanted to ask who he was talking to. She wanted to ask everything.