Gemotions

The stale smell of coffee hung in the air. John sat at the kitchen table, staring at the printout. A secret account. A substantial sum. He felt like a failure. His hands were clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. The silence of the house pressed in on him. He hadn't noticed the dust collecting in the corners, the chipped paint on the windowsill.

He had promised her everything. A comfortable life. Security. He hadn’t delivered. He felt a sense of unworthiness, a creeping despair that burrowed into his gut.