Gemotions

“Another late night, honey?” she asked, her voice flat, almost devoid of feeling. He tried to smile, but his lips felt stiff. He’d been trying to seem cheerful for weeks, a futile attempt to combat the hollowness that threatened to consume him.

The papers were in the safe, behind his birth certificate and passport. He’d taken her to the jeweler last week, a big trip planned for next summer, the entire thing funded by “savings.” But those savings weren’t in their shared accounts. She’d always been so careful, so secretive. The bank statements, neatly arranged, told a different story.