Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a stark contrast to the sour taste in her mouth. She had seen the number on the phone again; an unknown caller, answered with a guarded look by her husband, Ben. Three times in the past twenty-four hours. She was so done.

She carefully set a loaf of the bread on the counter. She pulled out a knife and began to slice it, each motion sharp and precise. She spread butter, thick and evenly, across each slice.

She arranged the slices perfectly on a plate. She would not react, she decided. She would not say anything. She simply, wordlessly, carried the plate to the living room and set it on the table. Then, she walked away.