Gemotions

The hum of the washing machine was a constant drone in the quiet house. Arthur, normally a man of routine, found himself aimlessly wandering from room to room. His wife, Carol, had always been the practical one, the financial planner. Then he found the accounts. He stared out the window, at the gray, overcast sky. It mirrored his mood.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sagging beneath his weight. The scent of lavender from Carol's perfume lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the life they had built.

Arthur rose to his feet. He picked up his coat. He did not say where he was going. He walked out the front door.