Gemotions

He’d said he was working late. The excuse felt hollow now, echoing in the cavernous apartment. Sarah stared at the voicemails. Each one, a brittle shard of a shattered belief. Her head throbbed, a dull ache that mirrored the emptiness inside. She sank into the armchair, the plush fabric suddenly feeling rough against her skin.

He'd been so attentive lately, showering her with gifts, compliments. A blatant attempt to cover something up. She now realized. The guilt churned in her, a heavy, unwelcome guest.

The apartment was too quiet. Too full of the ghosts of laughter and shared meals. She felt sick. She needed to breathe. Taking her phone, she went to the balcony. The city lights below seemed to mock her.