Gemotions

The routine of the day felt empty, a cycle of repetitive motions, devoid of any genuine feeling. The world seemed to have withdrawn, leaving Clara in a hollow space, a place of quiet, persistent sorrow. She had become someone else.

She hadn't been to the mailbox in days. When she finally did, compelled by the barest flicker of obligation, she found the usual collection of unwanted papers, and then, a card. Plain, unremarkable, but somehow...present.

She returned inside, the card a small, unwelcome weight in her hands. She couldn't bring herself to look at it, fearing the contents, fearing the intrusion of…anything. She just sat down in a chair and stared into nothingness.