Gemotions

The tiny, leather-bound book felt oddly official in her hands, like a miniature ledger of clandestine dealings. Eleanor’s lips tilted upwards, a slow, almost imperceptible curving of her mouth as she flipped through the pages. The handwriting was unmistakably Arthur’s, scrawled and hurried as always, chronicling small, regular deposits that she’d never known about. A giggle bubbled in her chest, quickly suppressed as she scanned the amounts. He’d been saving for… what? A gold-plated fishing rod? The thought made her shoulders shake.

The dusty, forgotten box in the attic had yielded so many secrets. She had always known Arthur was a creature of habit and, despite his protestations, not a particularly good liar. This little financial treasure trove, though… this was inspired. She smoothed a hand over the worn cover, already formulating the evening’s conversation.