“Will you be going to work this week?”
“I don’t know.”
Amy pulled her overcoat on with a sigh. Winter had tightened its grip over the past few days; in the Palmer household, the mood had become similarly frosty.
With one hand on the door handle, Amy looked back towards the study Martin had been cooped up in for the entirety of the previous night. She walked back up the hall, decorated on both sides with the usual family photographs; a lot of awkward poses and forced smiles adorned the walls.
“Please try to get some fresh air, dear.” She touched her hand to his shoulder. Martin flinched at the contact.
“I will go outside if I feel like it. See you tonight.”
“I love you, Martin.”
“Love you too.”
The words mirrored Amy’s but the tone behind them was clear. Amy turned back, sighed inwardly again, and headed out to the hotel she worked at. It was only a short drive from the house; almost every morning for the past six weeks Amy would walk out of her front door and step into her cramped hatchback. She would take a glance in her rear-view mirror, towards the garage that Martin’s Mercedes had been parked in so carefully a few short weeks ago. She would then put her head in her hands and weep for her husband - and herself. Her co-workers would greet her as if her suffering wasn’t obvious; they all knew that the job was the only distraction Amy had to keep her mind off her wretched home life.