Gemotions

He found the passbook tucked away in the back of the silverware drawer. Mark ran his fingers over the stiff, creamy paper, the balance printed in bold, stark figures. The knowledge settled in his gut like a rock.

His wife, Sarah, had always been so careful, so frugal. Their lives revolved around careful budgeting. Dinner was always at the same time, the same recipes, and the same quiet conversation.

Now, he looked around their meticulously furnished house, the colors all muted, the objects chosen with such calculated care. It felt less like a home and more like a carefully curated exhibit. A deep ache settled in his bones.