Gemotions

The dust motes danced in the lone ray of sun slicing through the blinds, illuminating the stale air of the spare room. Sarah slumped onto the uncomfortable metal folding chair, the cheap fabric scratching her skin. Her hand trembled as she typed in the online banking login. She knew the password: their anniversary, the year they got married. A wave of nausea, cold and clammy, washed over her. It wasn’t the anticipation of the contents of the account; it was the sheer act of violating her husband’s trust. Why? She felt a hollow echo inside her, a persistent emptiness that had settled in her bones like the damp chill of winter.

She clicked the “view accounts” button. There it was: a savings account, untouched, substantial. She closed her eyes. This wasn’t a mistake. There was a purpose behind this. A sick certainty gripped her, a tight knot in her chest. She had nothing. He had everything.