Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was deafening, the quiet after the phone call even worse. Every morning, she would wake up, feeling a knot of anxiety in her stomach. Every night, it would tighten further. He’d been taking calls in the car, on his lunch break, even when they went for a walk. Always a different number, always a different tone.

She couldn’t eat. The food tasted like ash in her mouth. She couldn't sleep. The darkness of the bedroom felt like a void, threatening to swallow her whole.

She had to know. The feeling in her gut, a low, persistent thrum of unease, was becoming unbearable. The uncertainty was a corrosive poison, eating away at her from the inside out.