Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the frantic drumming in Amelia's chest. Liam had been quiet all evening, distant. She’d found him in the hallway, phone pressed to his ear, voice a low murmur she couldn't quite decipher. Now, the remnants of the conversation hung in the air, a phantom whisper. She ran a hand over the smooth kitchen counter, the cold surface a strange comfort, a point of reality in the swirling uncertainty. He’d hung up the instant she appeared.

He'd said he was talking to his mother, but the way he’d flinched, the slight tremor in his hand as he’d put down the phone, told another story. Amelia didn't understand. His mother was in a care home, and he spoke to her daily. What could be so hush-hush?

She started cleaning the already immaculate kitchen, scrubbing the sink until it gleamed, the rhythmic motion providing a strange sort of calm. Every time the phone rang, she jumped.