Gemotions

The clatter of dishes in the sink echoed in the empty apartment. He was always late these days, always a plausible excuse, always a phone call taken in the hall. "Work," he would say, his voice strained. Her hands shook as she dried the plates.

Tonight, she’d caught a glimpse of the caller ID: a blocked number. The air in her lungs felt thin, insufficient. She leaned against the counter, the cool ceramic pressing against her back.

She thought of the years they had spent together, the shared laughter, the whispered secrets. Now, a cold dread began to seep into every corner of her mind. She needed to know, but the thought of confrontation paralyzed her.