Gemotions

The scent of her perfume, normally a comfort, now felt like a taunt. He’d been in the bathroom for an hour, the water running, the door locked. She’d heard the low murmur of voices, muffled by the porcelain and running water.

She leaned against the door, listening. The sounds were fragmented, impossible to decipher, but the secrecy was overwhelming. A wave of heat washed over her. She gripped the doorknob, her knuckles white.

When he finally emerged, his hair wet, his face relaxed, she found herself retreating, putting distance between them, unable to meet his gaze. She busied herself with the dishes, her movements precise, almost mechanical.