Gemotions

The sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. This was the same window that she had found him in front of three times now, phone pressed to his ear. The same window he turned away from as soon as he saw her enter. Now, he sat across the kitchen table, reading the newspaper. His gaze never faltered from it, and his hands were tense around the paper.

She was going to go for a run. She always ran when she was feeling this way. She went into the bedroom and began to get ready, but the pounding in her chest stopped her.

She picked up a vase on the windowsill, turning it over in her hands. The cool glass felt smooth against her skin. She set the vase down, hard, on the wooden table.