Gemotions

The air in the library felt cold and stale. He sat at his wife’s desk, the leather-bound checkbook open before him. The account number was unfamiliar, the transactions cryptic. She hadn't wanted him to know. The realization felt like a physical blow. His head throbbed.

He reread the entries, searching for some explanation, some rationalization. But the numbers remained cold, devoid of emotion. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, like a tic. The silence of the house amplified the pounding in his head.

He closed his eyes, his chest aching. He had trusted her, completely and utterly. He felt a deep sense of loss.