Gemotions

The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to taunt Clara. Every surface in the apartment, normally a source of comfort, now felt oppressive, watching. Mark’s phone. It was always on the table, face up. He left it there, deliberately. She knew it, she *felt* it.

The other night, she'd pretended to sleep, her eyes tracing the shadows on the ceiling. She'd listened to his hushed conversation, the inflection in his voice she'd never heard before. There was a lightness, a… playfulness she hadn't known he possessed.

She felt a hollowness where her heart used to be. She'd found herself replaying every conversation they’d ever had, trying to detect a hidden meaning, a subtle clue. It was a maddening game, and she didn't want to play.