Gemotions

The leather briefcase, usually propped beside his chair, now sat open on the kitchen table. Inside, a ledger. He found it by accident, while looking for his glasses. Page after page of meticulous entries. Dates. Numbers. Names. The meticulousness felt like a personal insult.

His stomach clenched, as if a fist had closed inside him. He sat down heavily, the chair creaking beneath his weight. The room swam in a haze. He felt a sudden, intense need to rip it all up, to shred every last record.

He pushed the ledger away, but the images remained, sharp and clear. He found himself unable to meet his own gaze in the mirror. He rubbed his hands across his face, a futile attempt to erase the details he had absorbed. He stood up abruptly, and stepped outside.