Gemotions

He had just received the news of his job loss. The house felt like a prison. The world was closing in. He dragged himself to the mailbox, expecting nothing. Inside, a plain white card. A generic, store-bought greeting. "Happy Birthday!" The words felt hollow, a cruel jest. His shoulders slumped.

He threw the card into the trash. The gesture felt aggressive, meaningless. He ran his fingers through his hair. He needed to be strong, to be practical. But the silence in the house, the weight of the unopened bills, the uncertainty of tomorrow – it pressed down on him with crushing force.