Gemotions

She hadn't been snooping, not really. She'd been looking for a stapler in the drawer of her husband, Mark's, desk. Then, she'd seen it, tucked under a pad of paper. A list. "Write a novel." She'd always known he wanted to write, had even encouraged it. Why hadn't he told her this was on the list?

Her breath caught in her throat. She gripped the edge of the desk, her knuckles white. She felt a burning sensation in her eyes, but she blinked it away. He’d never mentioned it. He confided in her about everything, she thought.

She ran her fingers across the smooth surface of the desk, as though trying to absorb some clue, some hint of the secret. The silence in the house pressed against her, making her feel terribly exposed.