Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the afternoon sun, a silent mockery of the life that was supposed to be his. He felt an unbearable constriction, as though his life was a set of invisible chains. Thomas had been at the park, and when he returned, he came across his wife, Helen, talking to someone on the phone.

“Je t’aime aussi, mon amour,” she said into the phone, her voice soft and full of meaning. Thomas had learned French. She had NEVER spoken French, not even a simple phrase. He stood there, frozen. His vision swam. He stumbled backward, wanting nothing more than to disappear. He felt a deep, pervasive feeling of being displaced.