Gemotions

The scent of coffee hung heavy in the air, unable to dispel the chill that had settled in Olivia's bones. She watched her husband, Michael, through the kitchen window as he meticulously watered the plants. He was usually clumsy with chores. That morning, his movements were precise, deliberate. His face was a closed book.

Earlier, she'd heard a distinct phone call from the guest room. The call only lasted a moment.

Her chest felt tight. She turned away from the window, unable to bear the sight of his averted gaze. She began to clean the kitchen, each swipe of the cloth a futile attempt to erase the rising tide of disquiet.