Gemotions

The hum of the refrigerator filled the kitchen. He was in the garden, out of earshot, no doubt on the phone. Sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes that danced in the air.

She picked at the corner of the tablecloth, unraveling a thread. The action was more out of habit than anything. There was a dull ache behind her eyes, a constant pressure that made it hard to breathe.

She walked towards the door that led to the garden. She stopped, turned around, and went back to the table, and sat, her hands folded in her lap.