Gemotions

The low hum of the refrigerator was the only sound in the apartment. Amelia sat at the small table, knitting. She hadn't been able to concentrate on the pattern since she started noticing the clandestine calls from her husband, John. Each time the phone rang, she would feel a sort of tightening in her chest.

She watched him from her usual vantage point, knitting needles clicking. He was in the hall, talking in hushed tones. The hallway light flickered.

He came back, a sheepish look on his face. She met his eyes, raised a brow, and resumed her knitting. He sat down and offered to help. "No, I'm good," she responded. "Dinner will be ready soon, though."