Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the lone ray of sunlight slanting through the blinds. Sarah traced a finger across the worn leather of the armchair, the silence of the house amplifying the thrumming in her ears. She'd been cleaning, something she’d taken up with a vengeance since finding the bank statement tucked away in David’s sock drawer. The numbers, cold and stark, mocked her.

She slammed the drawer shut, the sound echoing in the empty room. David’s supposed “tight budget” that dictated every grocery trip, every vacation. She’d been the one scrimping and saving, the one making do. He, it seemed, had been living a separate life, a life she wasn’t a part of.

The bitterness tasted metallic on her tongue.