Gemotions

The low hum of the refrigerator filled the otherwise quiet apartment. Sarah stared out the window, watching the streetlights cast long, dancing shadows. Her breath hitched. That phone call...it had been short, clipped. Her husband, Ben, had retreated to the balcony to take it, his voice barely a murmur.

She'd been reading, but now, the words swam before her eyes. He’d been evasive about where he was going. He was now late returning from his supposed "business meeting." She felt as if she were trapped in a vice.

Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. He’d promised her. He’d sworn. The rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to mock her.