Gemotions

A sigh escaped her, a sound almost of contentment. He’d packed away all the telescopes, the star charts, the glow-in-the-dark planets stuck to the ceiling. The backyard, once a nightly observatory, was now just a grassy expanse. The house felt lighter, less cluttered, somehow. She poured herself a glass of wine, the clinking of the ice cubes a cheerful sound in the sudden quiet. He’d joined the debate club, it seemed, and astronomy was yesterday's passion. She could finally have a decent conversation with her husband about something other than the phases of the moon.