Gemotions

He slumped in his armchair, the remote control slipping from his grasp. Mr. Henderson stared at the television, the brightly colored images offering no solace. His retirement had been a sharp, sudden descent into a quiet sort of despair. The silence in his apartment felt oppressive.

A package arrived, addressed in an unfamiliar hand. He almost tossed it in the recycling bin, but something, a flicker of curiosity, stopped him. He tore it open, revealing a small, intricately carved wooden bird. A tiny tag was attached, bearing the inscription: "Thank you, Mr. Henderson, for believing in me. - Sarah, Class of '15."

He picked up the bird, turning it over and over in his hands. It was exquisitely detailed. He smiled, a genuine, soft smile he hadn't experienced in weeks. The apartment didn’t feel quite so hollow anymore.