Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was almost palpable, broken only by the rhythmic tick of the kitchen clock. David stared out the window, watching the mundane parade of pedestrians pass by. Days felt the same, stretching into an endless, unyielding expanse. He had nothing to do, nothing to look forward to.

He started, startled, when he found it. Tucked inside a faded photo album, wedged between a picture of him as a toddler and a group shot of his parents at a work social, was a letter. It was his mother’s resignation. The language, formal and controlled, masked the raw emotion that poured from the words. "Each day is a burden," it read. He felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of… pressure. He had to keep moving, keep busy.