Gemotions

John ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the stubble on his face rough against his palm. The house felt too quiet, each tick of the grandfather clock in the hall amplifying the hollowness inside him. He’d been working overtime, a constant, dull ache in his shoulders a testament to the long hours. Then, yesterday, cleaning out the attic, he’d found it: a small, hidden notebook tucked inside a dusty box. His wife, Sarah, had kept a savings account a secret.

His jaw tightened as he flipped through the pages. The meticulously recorded deposits, the growing balance, a monument to a life he hadn't known. It was more than the money, he realized. It was the feeling that their shared life had been built on a foundation of… sand. A coldness spread through him, making his extremities tingle, as if the very air had turned icy.