Gemotions

The scent of roasting chicken filled the air, a scent that normally comforted Mark. But today, it only served to irritate him. He chopped vegetables with unnecessary force, each slice a silent, angry stab. He’d discovered the account yesterday, hidden beneath his wife’s name. A healthy sum, amassed over the years.

His wife, Susan, was due home any minute. He imagined her cheerful smile, her easy laughter. He pictured her in the kitchen, offering to “help” with dinner. The thought made him want to scream.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid doing nothing to soothe the tightness in his chest.