Gemotions

The aroma of burnt coffee hung in the air, a fitting metaphor, she thought, for the state of things. Sarah stared at the phone, its sleek surface reflecting her own face back at her, a stranger in a familiar frame. Mark had been taking calls, furtive whispers, hurried exits from the room. She’d tried to brush it off, chalk it up to work, but the way his shoulders tensed whenever his phone chirped, the abruptness with which he'd end conversations... It gnawed at her, a relentless ache in the pit of her stomach. The silence in their apartment seemed to amplify every unspoken word, every hidden gesture.