Gemotions

The envelope, addressed in his wife's familiar scrawling handwriting, sat on the kitchen table. He'd almost missed it, but something about the thickness of it caught his attention. Michael opened the flap, the paper tearing roughly under his impatient fingers. Inside, a single sheet of paper, a statement detailing a sizable balance, taunted him.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table, his breath coming in shallow, quick bursts. The world seemed to shrink, focusing only on the numbers. He was sure the blood was thudding in his ears, blocking out all the other sounds.

The ceramic mug sitting on the counter suddenly looked very appealing. He picked it up and hurled it to the floor.