Gemotions

The shadows in the hallway danced with the flickering candlelight. Thomas crept down the stairs, each step a carefully calculated move. He could hear the faint clicking of the keys from his wife, Clara's, home office.

His pulse hammered against his ribs. He felt a cold dread that clung to him. He remembered a recent conversation, a detail from his life that Clara had seemingly stored away. A detail he had shared with her once, in confidence. Now, the memory felt different, suspect.

He pressed his ear against the door, straining to make out the words. The tapping stopped. He imagined her staring, waiting, listening too. The air felt charged, filled with a tension he couldn't explain. He felt exposed, watched, judged.