Gemotions

The ringing phone was a physical blow. When David picked up, his shoulders went rigid, the muscles in his jaw clenching. He retreated to the back porch, closing the sliding glass door behind him. From her vantage point in the kitchen, Martha could see his silhouette, talking animatedly, his expression unreadable.

She’d started listening at the door, straining to hear snippets of the conversation. She’d found herself replaying his words in her head, searching for hidden meanings, for clues she couldn’t even name. She’d begun to distrust the way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her.

She poured herself a glass of wine, the chilled liquid doing little to quell the heat rising in her chest. She found herself imagining all sorts of impossible scenarios, each one more devastating than the last. She set the glass down, unopened.