Gemotions

He had the phone pressed close to his ear, his back turned, murmuring in a voice she’d rarely heard, all hushed intensity. Amelia watched from the doorway of the kitchen, her breath catching in her throat. The aroma of simmering tomato sauce suddenly felt cloying, oppressive.

A sheen of perspiration coated her palms. Her vision blurred, and the world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis. She leaned against the doorframe, trying to steady herself.

The phone slipped into his pocket as he turned. His face, usually open and jovial, was shuttered, his eyes avoiding hers. He offered a quick, forced smile and a casual, “Just work, honey,” but the words rang hollow in the silent apartment. She swallowed, trying to force the lump in her throat to dissolve, her lips struggling to form a response.