Gemotions

The steam from the mug warmed Sarah’s hands, but not the chill that had settled in her bones since hearing the muffled phone call. She’d been in the kitchen, chopping vegetables, when she heard David’s voice, low and urgent, emanating from the bedroom. He'd claimed it was a work call, but something felt off. The way he’d shut the door, the speed with which he’d hung up. She took a slow sip of her tea, the Earl Grey suddenly tasting bland.

A small tremor ran through her, an involuntary shudder she couldn't control. She glanced at the clock, the second hand sweeping around the dial with relentless predictability. David was due home soon. She considered what she would say, her mind flitting from gentle inquiry to outright accusation. The tension coiled tight in her stomach.

She thought about their anniversary, last month. It seemed so long ago. They had laughed, shared a beautiful meal, and toasted to forever. Now, the thought felt distant, as if wrapped in a layer of gauze. The clatter of keys at the door snapped her from her musings. She straightened, the ceramic mug suddenly heavy in her grip.