Gemotions

The garage was cold and damp, a space usually filled with the comforting smell of car oil and the gentle hum of activity. Today, however, it felt oppressive. He’d been looking for a wrench, but instead, he’d found a box. Inside, hidden beneath layers of old tools, was a bank statement.

The numbers on the page blurred. He sat on the workbench, feeling the rough wood pressing against him, the chill seeping into his bones. His wife, Lisa, was the practical one, always careful with money.

He felt a deep and unfamiliar hollow inside. He stared at the statement, the world around him fading away. The safe haven he’d built seemed to have vanished.