Gemotions

The invitation landed on the welcome mat with a dull thud, a stark white rectangle against the faded floral pattern. Michael stared at it through the peephole for a long moment, the world outside blurred by the smudged lens. He didn’t reach for it. He just stood there, the weight of the day – the week, the month – pressing down on his shoulders. The air inside the apartment felt thick, stagnant.

He eventually shuffled back inside, the click of the lock echoing in the cavernous space. The blinds were drawn, as always. He sank onto the sofa, the cushions molding to his shape. The invitation remained, a stark reminder of a past he couldn't quite face. The silence of the apartment was a heavy blanket.

A commercial on TV flickered, showcasing smiling faces and laughing voices. He muted it. Another day, another missed chance at…something. He couldn’t even bring himself to articulate what that something was.