Gemotions

It landed with a soft thud on his doormat, a stark contrast to the sterile, impersonal bills. The card felt expensive, the paper thick and luxurious. The lack of a signature was, in its own way, an insult. He was ignored.

He examined the calligraphy, a style he'd seen only in magazines depicting lifestyles he’d never be able to afford. He crushed it slowly in his hands.

Outside, the neighborhood kids were laughing, playing a game in the street. He hated their carefree existence, their boundless energy. He could feel his jaw clench, his muscles rigid.