Gemotions

Michael slammed the lid of the safe shut. The metallic clang echoed in the otherwise quiet house. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture almost violent. Years. Years of scraping by, of shared budgets, of careful planning. And now this.

He wandered into the kitchen, a sense of heat prickling at the back of his eyes. There, propped on the counter, was a grocery list. "Organic kale, artisanal bread, imported olive oil." He let out a frustrated grunt.

He felt the sudden urge to shred something. Anything. His gaze drifted to the window, the setting sun painting the sky in fiery hues, mirroring the storm brewing within him.