Gemotions

She stared out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken things. He’d just told her about the time they'd lost their dog. He remembered the playful chase, the joyous romp in the park, the eventual finding of him. He was nostalgic, his voice filled with affection.

She remembered the sinking feeling in her stomach, the frantic search, the hours of weeping after. She remembered the dog’s limp body, the crushing realization that he was gone. She felt a knot tighten in her chest, and she found herself struggling to breathe. The joyful memory felt like a knife twisting in her gut. She felt like a phantom.