Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creaking a hollow counterpoint to the turmoil within. The scent of jasmine, usually a calming influence, felt cloying, suffocating. He watched his wife, Emily, tend to her garden, her back to him, her movements fluid and graceful. The image of her talking on the phone, her voice lowered, her laughter bubbling, played on repeat in his mind. He found himself clenching his fists, the muscles in his arms tensing. He wasn't afraid. He felt a need to act, to seize control, to find out what was truly happening, and to make it all his. He wanted it all.