Gemotions

The bank statement landed on the kitchen table with a definitive thump. Her breath hitched. The numbers swam before her eyes. Tens of thousands. Where had all this come from? He’d claimed they were pinching pennies. She gripped the edge of the granite countertop, knuckles white. The image of his smug face, the way he always sighed about their budget, suddenly felt like a cruel mockery.

He walked in, whistling, a grocery bag slung over his shoulder. “Honey, I got your favorite ice cream!” His smile faltered when he saw her. He must have seen her face.

“What is this, John?” Her voice was tight, barely a whisper. He looked at the statement, his face draining of color. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.