Gemotions

The sky was a heavy gray, mirroring the mood that clung to Daniel. He shuffled through the park, his shoulders hunched, his head down. Every breath felt like a chore, every thought a burden. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling, just a persistent weariness that made everything seem pointless.

He noticed a small, wooden crate peeking out from the base of a particularly gnarled old oak. His fingers traced the rough wood. He didn't know it. Nothing about it was familiar. He felt the familiar weight of not caring.

Inside, he found a collection of handwritten letters, each addressed to him, but penned in a style he didn't recognize. He glanced at the first sentence, then set it back inside. The words swam before his eyes. He sighed. The entire day felt like an uphill battle he was unwilling to fight.