Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room. Leo was outside, supposedly tending to the roses. From her vantage point in the kitchen, Clara noticed him on the phone, head bent down as if in intense conversation. Her hands, usually adept at kneading dough, now idled, suspended mid-air.

She watched him for a while, a strange quiet filling the space between them. The back of her neck began to feel tense. She slowly lowered the bowl of flour and grabbed a glass of water.

He eventually strolled back inside, humming. He didn't meet her gaze. "Smells good," he said, glancing at the partially baked cake. She returned a curt nod. "It's almost ready."