Gemotions

The warm water of the bath enveloped Clara, the bubbles tickling her skin. The scent of lavender filled the air, a familiar balm to her senses. She leaned back against the porcelain, closing her eyes and letting the tension of the day melt away. The world outside seemed distant and muted.

A small thump from the desk in the other room. Curious, she wrapped herself in a towel and went to investigate. Mark, her husband, was frantically closing his laptop, a guilty look etched on his face. The open document revealed a title: “The Sculptor’s Wife.”

Clara tilted her head.