Gemotions

The email lay open on her screen, detailing the itinerary for the "annual international conference" where Liam was supposed to be presenting his research. Instead, she had just seen him, through her kitchen window, meticulously mowing Mrs. Gable’s lawn. The email's neat formatting and official tone now felt like a cruel joke.

A sudden, intense heat flushed through her. She felt a need to scream, or maybe to laugh. She pressed her hands against her mouth. The cursor on her screen blinked, a tiny, indifferent sentinel of the deception.

Her breath came in short, shallow gasps. She had no idea what to do.