Gemotions

He slammed the door, the force of it rattling the pictures on the hallway wall. A headache blossomed behind her eyes. *Again*. This was the third time this week, all stemming from the same argument: their dwindling retirement funds. She'd been on the verge of a breakdown, she felt like she was trapped in a cage. Now? She felt a slow burn of frustration begin in her stomach.

He'd sworn, cross his heart, they were scraping by. Barely making ends meet. The bills were piling up, the threats from the bank were increasing and now… this.

She went to the kitchen, seeking the cold comfort of the tiled floor. On the fridge, a handwritten grocery list. Flour, milk, eggs. Standard. Tacked beneath it, a bank statement, partially obscured by a magnet shaped like a smiling avocado. "The Savings Account of Mr. Theodore Davies." Oh, really?