Gemotions

"I just… I don't know," Michael mumbled, running his hand over his chin. He'd found the account accidentally, a careless click on his daughter's tablet. The truth of it had sunk in like a cold stone.

He’d been so proud of his work, so busy with his own problems. Now, the walls of his study, the furniture he'd painstakingly chosen, seemed to shrink around him. The air felt thin, hard to breathe. He looked out the window at the setting sun, which cast long shadows, as if to mock his ignorance.

He walked over to the window, the image of his daughter’s smiling face flashing in his mind's eye. A fresh wave of something washed over him, a feeling like a physical blow. He stood there for a long time, the silence broken only by the chirping of crickets.