Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Eleanor stared at the bank statement. A dizzying wave washed over her, a feeling like she'd stepped off a curb wrong. It was tucked inside a book, *The Joy of Gardening*, a volume Arthur had always cherished. He’d just left to pick up groceries. Her hands trembled as she reread the balance. Thousands of dollars. Where had it come from?

Her breath hitched. She wandered into the kitchen, the familiar scent of simmering stew failing to ground her. The spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering into the pot.

"Arthur?" she called out, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. It was a question, an appeal for understanding from a man who had always been an open book. This… this wasn't him.