Gemotions

"Another one," Mark muttered, the words barely audible as he closed the mailbox. He tossed the card onto the passenger seat of his beat-up car. The interior was cluttered, mirroring the chaos in his head. Sunlight glared against the dusty windshield, offering little comfort. He’d barely looked at the thing, the unsigned note a constant reminder of how disconnected he felt. His jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his already messy hair. He revved the engine, the roar echoing in the empty parking lot.