Gemotions

The envelope was plain, unmarked. It sat on the kitchen counter, just a few days after her husband, Mark, had departed on a business trip. Inside, was a single, official document. A bank notification. The balance was staggering. She ran a hand over her face, the skin suddenly tingling.

She immediately started cleaning, scrubbing surfaces that were already spotless. Her movements were jerky, rapid, as though she were trying to physically burn away the images that flashed in her mind.

The telephone rang, a sharp, intrusive sound. It was Mark, calling from a hotel. "Everything okay, honey?" he asked. The ordinary words, the usual tone of his voice, suddenly felt like an elaborate deception. She couldn't answer him, because the words wouldn't come.