Gemotions

“How could you?” The words were almost a whisper, laced with a venomous sweetness. He stood in the doorway, the printed bank statement clutched in his trembling hand. Her face was a mask of placidity, infuriatingly calm. Every carefully chosen word, every placating gesture, seemed like a fresh insult.

He wanted to tear the room apart, to expose the hollowness of their shared life. He wanted her to crumble, to finally show some genuine emotion.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" His voice was a low growl. He dropped the statement onto the table. The sharp corner of the paper seemed to stab at his soul.