Gemotions

The anonymous card, a bright pink with a glittery balloon, felt wrong in Michael's hand. He was usually so cynical. He looked out the window. Who sent this to him? He had no clue. Maybe it was the new couple next door; their laughter had been a constant presence, filling the quiet space with sound.

His gaze softened. He felt an urge to reciprocate, to acknowledge the sentiment, even if the sender remained unknown. He decided to send flowers to the local nursing home. He remembered how lonely his grandfather had been in his last years. He pictured the faces of the residents, their eyes lighting up.

He closed his eyes, a phantom weight lifting from his shoulders. He went inside to choose a bouquet, a quiet warmth filling his heart.