Gemotions

Michael stared at the screen, the bank’s website mocking him with its clean lines and organized data. He'd stumbled upon the account by accident – a forgotten password, a forgotten email address. The numbers on the screen were a punch to the gut. Large sums, regular deposits. He felt his hands go numb.

His wife, Emily, always insisted on shared finances. They were a team, partners. He swallowed, a dry, scratchy sensation. The world seemed to tilt on its axis slightly. He glanced at the clock, then stared blankly at it again.

He needed air, he realized, but the thought of leaving his computer felt equally wrong. He scrolled back up, re-reading the entries. He needed a drink, but his legs felt unsteady. He slumped back in his chair, the office around him a blur of shadows and forgotten deadlines.