Gemotions

The postcard, with its generic picture of a sunset over the ocean, lay on the mantelpiece, a splash of color against the otherwise neutral decor. It was a photograph that had no meaning for him. He'd come back home, only to learn of it. It was the only photograph he had.

He’d been humming, trying to decide what to have for dinner. The postcard's message, printed in a cheerful, impersonal font, jolted him. It was an invitation. His brain struggled.

He walked over and picked it up. His hands started to shake. The familiar names of people he’d known, of those he’d tried to forget, swirled before his eyes. It felt like a trap. A strange, unfamiliar wave of anxiety washed over him, leaving him feeling hollow.