Gemotions

The silence of the house was oppressive, thick with unspoken tensions. Michael felt the familiar tightness in his shoulders, a physical manifestation of his simmering mood. He’d gone to the storage room to find a box, but had found a box that wasn’t his.

Tucked inside, underneath old photographs and forgotten mementos, was a small, leather-bound notebook. His wife, Jessica's, handwriting. And inside the notebook, a meticulous accounting. A secret account. A substantial sum. He felt his face flush with a simmering heat.

He snapped the notebook shut, the sound sharp and definitive. He needed to leave. He needed to walk. To breathe.