Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise quiet house. Michael had stumbled upon the account while preparing their taxes. He replayed the discovery in his mind: the casual, almost breezy way his wife, Sarah, had discussed their spending habits, always lamenting that they barely had anything left over.

He paced the living room, feeling a cold fury grip him. He was a good provider, and he had thought that they shared their financial information. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands. The walls seemed to be closing in around him.

He grabbed his coat and keys, needing air, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere of their shared life. He didn't know where he was going.