Gemotions

The persistent ringing of the phone amplified the silence in the apartment. James stood in the hallway, the phone bill clutched in his trembling hand. Sarah, his wife, had been acting so distant. The calls were all he needed. He felt his face flush. The evidence was all there.

He ran his hand through his hair, a nervous habit. The doubt was a poison, a slow-acting venom. He was not good enough. He was too old, too boring, too predictable. He pictured himself through her eyes: the receding hairline, the expanding waistline, the quiet voice. He imagined her laughing at him.

He slammed his fist against the wall, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his arm. He couldn't confront her. He didn't have the strength. He felt his throat close up, the air thick and heavy with unspoken accusations.