Gemotions

The cheap, flickering fluorescent lights of the storage unit buzzed, mirroring the anxious hum in his head. He'd been looking for old photos, anything to spark a flicker of joy, a ghost of the happiness that had eluded him for so long. The boxes were dusty, filled with forgotten memories.

He found it wedged between a box of Christmas decorations and a forgotten set of golf clubs. A small, locked box. The key, surprisingly, was tucked inside a dog-eared copy of “The Odyssey,” a book she used to love. He forced the lock open. Inside, cash, neatly bundled. Beneath the money, a passbook for a savings account. It was a slap in the face.