Gemotions

The chipped ceramic mug felt heavy in Elias's hands, matching the leaden sensation in his chest. He hadn’t bothered to shave in days, and the stubble scratched at his jaw as he slumped onto the porch steps. The morning sun, usually a comfort, felt harsh against his eyelids. He picked at a loose thread on his worn jeans, avoiding the gaze of the cheerful daffodils blooming in his neighbor's garden. Then, tucked amongst the junk mail, he saw it: a brightly colored birthday card, unsigned.

He sighed, a long, weary sound that echoed the hollowness within him. Who could it be from? He hadn't celebrated a birthday in years, not properly. He brought the card inside, the weight of it in his hands a stark contrast to the emptiness he carried within. He tossed it on the kitchen table and didn't open it.