Gemotions

The spreadsheet lay open on the laptop, a digital serpent of numbers and dates. Sarah slammed the screen shut, the click echoing in the otherwise silent house. The smell of his aftershave, still clinging to the bathroom, now felt suffocating. He’d told her they were living paycheck to paycheck, struggling to save for their anniversary trip. Apparently, “they” meant *her*. She imagined him, smugly typing in the details, the secret smiles, the deliberate omissions. The rage clawed at her throat, constricting her airway.

She went to the garage. He had been so proud of his vintage car, a project they were supposed to work on together. She found the tool box and began to unbolt the tires.