Gemotions

The spreadsheet was laid bare on the laptop screen, a stark white canvas of betrayal. Sarah gripped the mouse so tightly her knuckles ached. Each line item, each carefully accrued sum, felt like a personal affront. Ten years of marriage, ten years of shared bills and meager vacations, while he'd been squirreling away thousands. She could feel a prickle of heat crawl up her neck, a sensation she usually associated with the sun, but this felt different, more insidious.

She slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He'd said they couldn’t afford new furniture. He'd complained about the price of her pottery classes. The gall of it. A tremor ran through her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

The ceramic vase on the coffee table, a recent purchase, suddenly seemed gaudy and out of place. She picked it up, the smooth clay cool against her palm, and hurled it against the fireplace. The shattering sound offered a fleeting, unsatisfying catharsis.