Gemotions

The flickering fluorescence of the bank’s interior buzzed, mirroring the anxious hum in Amelia's chest. She clutched the printout – her husband, David's, bank statement – feeling a prickle of sweat between her shoulder blades. Thirty thousand dollars. A sum she hadn't known existed, tucked away in an account bearing only his name. She found herself staring blankly at the teller, who was now smiling expectantly, waiting for her to leave. Amelia forced a smile back, her fingers still gripping the paper. Why hadn't he told her?

Back in the car, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty road. She gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles were white. The silence in the car amplified the questions swirling in her head. Where had it come from? What was it for? This revelation had her questioning everything.

She pictured him, whistling as he cooked dinner, his usual jovial self. Was any of it real? She felt a tightening in her throat, a sensation like a fist closing. The drive home felt longer than usual, the familiar landscape suddenly alien.