Gemotions

“Fifty-thousand dollars?” Sarah's voice was dangerously low. It vibrated with a suppressed intensity. She marched into the living room, the bank statement clutched in her hand like a weapon. James, her husband, looked up from his crossword puzzle, his face a mask of detached innocence.

She didn't wait for an explanation. She flung the paper onto the coffee table, the pages scattering. “Explain this,” she demanded, her voice tight. He said nothing.

She strode over to the stereo, yanked out the power cord, and then threw the speaker across the room, it's bass speakers hitting the wall and crumbling, the crash reverberating through the apartment.