Gemotions

He walked into the den, a contented sigh escaping his lips. Michael stretched, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles after a long bike ride. Sunlight dappled the room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He felt… well, exceptionally at peace. His life was good. He had his art, a loving wife, and now, a quiet afternoon to himself.

His fingers brushed against a forgotten envelope tucked behind a bookshelf. It was addressed to him, in his wife, Eleanor's familiar scrawl. He opened it, assuming it was a forgotten love letter. Instead, it was a bank statement.

The account, held in her maiden name, had a substantial balance. He blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face. Eleanor, ever the pragmatist, had been secretly planning a trip to Italy. The joy he experienced was immense. He’d known she dreamed of it. He grinned and pulled out his phone, ready to make a call to a travel agent.