Gemotions

Sarah slumped onto the floral-print chair, the springs groaning in protest. The incessant buzz of the washing machine felt like it was drilling into her skull. She needed quiet, needed stillness, but the house, as usual, was a whirlwind. Picking up the mail, she sifted through the bills and junk, her fingers numb with a fatigue that had become a constant companion. Then, nestled between a credit card offer and a flyer for discount mattresses, was a bank statement. Addressed to her husband, Michael. Curiosity – a dangerous, unwanted guest – nudged her. She shouldn’t, she knew. But her gaze drifted to the bolded account balance. It was a sum that made her breath catch.