Gemotions

“Are you hungry?” Jessica asked, the words hollow in the echoing emptiness of their bedroom. Her husband, Michael, was pacing again. She watched him, his jaw clenched, his eyes avoiding hers. The secret calls had begun subtly, late-night whispers, hushed tones. Now, they were a constant part of their lives.

She found herself walking through their house, touching objects, the worn sofa, the books on the shelves, the photographs on the wall, as if trying to ground herself in something real. The life they built together seemed to be slipping through her fingers.

She felt a strange disconnect from her own body, as if she were an observer watching a life unfold without her. She could feel the chill in her bones, the icy dread that wrapped around her heart. She couldn't eat. She had no energy. She felt herself shrinking.