Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as Eleanor sat hunched over the opened safe deposit box, a small, velvet bag clutched in her hand. The metal box felt cold beneath her fingertips. She’d always trusted David, implicitly. Now, the contents of the bag – the stacks of crisp, new bills – challenged everything she thought she knew.

She couldn’t catch her breath. Each inhale felt shallow, insufficient. Her legs felt weak. Suddenly, the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, to lengthen, and she was acutely aware of every creak and groan of the old house.

“David…” she whispered, the name barely audible. She felt a need to sit. The world began to tilt.