Gemotions

The aroma of coffee, normally comforting, now felt suffocating. Mark was in the kitchen, whistling as he poured himself a cup. He was dressed neatly, ready for work. I watched him from the doorway, feeling the familiar flutter in my stomach. He had started taking these calls a few weeks ago, always at the same time, always in a different room. The space inside the house felt smaller.

"Need a refill?" he asked, not meeting my eyes.

I shook my head, my throat feeling dry. I focused on the crumbs on the counter, imagining what his fingers had touched.