Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He felt a cold sweat prickling his skin. His wife, Emily, was at her book club, he thought. He had heard her speaking on the phone, but the words, the tone of the voice, he did not recognize. His mouth was dry.

He moved silently through the house, his own footsteps echoing in his ears. He wanted to know, but didn't want to find out.

He sat down on the sofa, clutching a cushion. He should be happy. They were happy. He ran a hand through his hair. This couldn't be happening.