Gemotions

The sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He, Henry, sat at the table, a cold cup of coffee in front of him. His wife, Deborah, was at her pottery class, immersed in a world of colours and creation. He felt only muted. He moved the coffee mug, then sat, looking out.

He found it in her online tax files, a forgotten password that led him to the hidden account. He felt an abstract curiosity. It had no immediate emotional impact, more like watching something happen on a screen. He looked at the numbers, and then just stared, and then leaned back. It was hard to understand what he felt. Just empty.