Gemotions

The small, insignificant details. The missed dinners, the excuses, the change in his perfume. The phone, hidden in the glove compartment of his car, was the undeniable proof. She felt a kind of hollowness, a desert of emotion.

She took his car the next day. She drove it to the car wash, leaving a small, almost undetectable scratch on the side. She parked it in the furthest corner of the parking lot, in a space that was almost too tight.

When he looked at her she gave him an innocent look. “Oh, I took the car to the market, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice dripping with insincerity. She watched his face harden. When he discovered the scratch, she feigned shock, a perfect performance.