Gemotions

The afternoon sun blazed through the windows, but Clara felt a chill. She’d been staring at the painting on the wall for an hour, but it wasn't registering in her mind. Mark had been acting strangely. Distant. Preoccupied. And the phone calls. Always the phone calls.

She heard him come in, heard the quiet click of the front door. Then, the muffled sound of a voice. She found him on the back porch, hunched over, speaking in a low, rapid murmur. The words were meaningless, lost in the wind, but the urgency in his voice was clear. She felt a profound sense of detachment, as if she were observing the scene from a great distance.