Gemotions

David found the passbook tucked away in the back of a drawer, behind a collection of stamps his wife, Carol, had meticulously organized. He didn't even bother to open it at first. He knew. He just knew.

The silence in the house was deafening, amplified by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. He went to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. Each drop seemed to represent a lost hope, a broken promise.

He’d make some tea. Maybe read a book. The future felt incredibly, overwhelmingly empty.