Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee did nothing to soothe the tension knotting in Clara’s shoulders. Mark was cheerfully pouring kibble into a bowl for the cat he’d insisted on adopting. The cat, a sleek Siamese, watched Clara with cold, amber eyes.

Clara busied herself with making toast, her movements sharp, almost jerky. The cat, having finished his meal, began pacing the length of the kitchen counter. The click of his claws on the countertop set her teeth on edge.

She avoided looking at Mark, at the cat, at the new litter box in the corner. She couldn’t explain the pressure in her chest, the feeling of something closing in. She just knew that she desperately wished they could go back to the way things were.