Gemotions

The postman, a jovial man named Frank, had just delivered the mail. He watched as Mr. Henderson shuffled out, his usual gait slow and deliberate. Mr. Henderson was known for his routine. He always checked his mail at exactly 3:00 PM. But today, Mr. Henderson paused, staring intently at a single, brightly colored birthday card.

He squinted, then pulled out his reading glasses from his pocket. He brought the card closer to his face, his lips moving as he read the words. His shoulders slumped. He looked up at Frank, a strange expression on his face. He looked at the card again, then slowly, deliberately, crumpled it in his hand.

"Everything alright, Mr. Henderson?" Frank asked, his voice laced with concern.

Mr. Henderson just shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Then, without a word, he turned and went back inside, leaving Frank standing there, puzzled, in the afternoon sun.