Gemotions

“Honey, can you grab the mail?” Mark called from the kitchen. Lisa, already halfway up the stairs, stopped dead. The mail. It meant bills, and bills meant… more than she could handle.

She found the bank statement, opened it, and saw the numbers. The zeros seemed to swim before her eyes. It was a dizzying sum. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw up.

She pictured their little house, the repairs they’d put off, the trips they'd dreamed of. She thought of his easy smile, his reassurances about their "secure future." Suddenly, all of it felt flimsy, fragile, a house of cards ready to collapse. She gripped the banister, her knuckles white.