Gemotions

The crumpled deposit slip, half-hidden beneath a stack of old bills. That’s what started it. It read “Cash Deposit - $5,000.” Sarah found it tucked in a box under the bed when she was looking for a forgotten book. $5,000. She knew her husband's salary. She knew their expenses. It didn't add up.

Her vision blurred slightly, and she felt a tremor pass through her. She felt sick. Everything that followed was a blur: opening the second drawer, pulling out the bank statements, seeing account after account. She felt like she was drowning.

She ran her hand along the edge of the bed frame. Her fingers were numb, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. She couldn't speak, could barely breathe. The air in the room felt thick, heavy, suffocating. The room wasn't the same. It was a new, cold space.