Gemotions

The antique telephone, a gleaming black Bakelite, sat silent on the hallway table. Sarah couldn't help but grin as she walked past it, again. The small, almost imperceptible wiggle of the receiver cord, the way it wasn’t quite flush against the base, still buzzed in her memory. He thought he was so clever, conducting his clandestine conversations in a supposedly secure location. Oh, he had no idea!

Her heart danced a jig inside her chest. She'd known something was off, the late nights, the averted glances, the sudden interest in obscure hobbies. The phone calls, though, that was the key. Now, the game could begin.

She hummed a tuneless melody as she poured herself a glass of wine, the bubbles tickling her nose. This was going to be fun. Utterly, deliciously fun. The possibilities unfurled before her, a tapestry of intricate plots and delightful discoveries.