Gemotions

He’d been doing it for weeks now, that nervous dance around the phone. Always ducking into the spare bedroom, always whispering. Amelia had had enough. She felt a certain resolve hardening inside her, a steel core forming against the softness of her hurt. This needed to stop.

She stalked across the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath her bare feet. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. Through the crack, she heard the low rumble of his voice, the muffled tones she knew didn’t belong to her. Anger ignited, a fiery blossom in her chest.

Amelia slammed the door open. He jumped, the phone nearly tumbling from his grasp. "What's going on?" she demanded, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. He stammered, his face flushing crimson. The lie was palpable, a tangible thing in the air. She would not be dismissed.