Gemotions

He usually loved the mail. It was a connection to the outside world. But today, the mailbox held a singular terror. The card was cheap, garish, with a picture of a dancing bear. “Have a bear-y good birthday!” it proclaimed. No name, no return address. Just… this.

He slowly closed the mailbox, his movements deliberate, as if trying to stave off the feeling that was swallowing him whole. He felt a pressure in his chest, a tightness that made it hard to breathe.

He went inside and sat in his favourite chair, but found no comfort there. He looked around his home, at all the familiar objects, but they offered no solace. He felt exposed, stripped bare.