Gemotions

The tiny, unassuming envelope was tucked behind the photo albums in the attic. Sarah’s fingers trembled as she pulled it free, the cheap paper crackling in the silence. Inside, a single bank statement. John’s name. A balance that was… significant. Her chest felt constricted, a sudden tightness she hadn't anticipated. She ran a hand through her hair, smoothing down the stray strands.

The sunlight streaming through the attic window seemed too bright, too harsh. She scanned the numbers again, then again. She could feel a strange pressure behind her eyes, the kind that precedes a headache. The dust motes danced in the light, mocking her with their carefree movement.

She closed the account details, folded the statement, then tucked it back where she found it. Her mind, a jumbled mess of questions and racing thoughts, couldn't make sense of it all. Back in the kitchen, she stared at the kettle, forgetting why she’d come in here. Finally, she put the kettle on, then immediately turned around and switched it off.