Gemotions

“Honey, are you alright?” Michael asked, his voice soft. He found the bank statement tucked inside his wife, Jessica's, glove compartment. He’d been searching for the registration for their car. He’d felt a tremor in his gut when he saw the balance.

He looked at Jessica, who was seated on the sofa, engrossed in a magazine. Her face was serene, her body relaxed. His own hands were clammy, the edges of the paper now crumpled. He tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

He had never felt so alone, so far away. He turned and walked out onto the back porch, the cool night air doing little to soothe his rising agitation.