Gemotions

The click of the front door was like a gunshot. Eleanor flinched, her hands tightening around the book she was pretending to read. Thomas. He was late again. She hadn't seen him properly for days. She watched him through the gap in the curtains, his silhouette a stranger against the twilight.

He was preoccupied, eyes glued to his phone. He walked in, went straight upstairs, didn’t even acknowledge her. The silence in the house, previously a comfort, now felt like a suffocating presence. She put down the book. A cold wave washed over her, chilling her to the bone.