Gemotions

The old house creaked and groaned in the wind, a sound that usually comforted Thomas. The fire was burning low, the books were stacked, the familiar routine settling him like the final piece of a puzzle. He poured a whiskey and listened to the rain.

The landline rang. His wife, Emily, sprang up to answer it. He saw her rush into the study, speaking so quietly he couldn't hear. When she returned, she was pale, her usual cheerfulness replaced with a tight, brittle smile. The peace of the evening was thoroughly broken.