Gemotions

The card landed in his hand like a physical weight. The glossy image, the generic message – all felt like a personal insult. He crumpled the card, the paper crinkling with a harsh, grating sound.

He walked into the backyard and found the neglected fire pit. He gathered a few dry twigs, his movements quick and efficient. He struck a match, the flame a small, defiant flicker in the gathering dusk.

He tossed the crumpled card into the flames, watching it burn. The paper curled, blackened, and disappeared into ash. He stood there, the heat washing over him, a small, grim satisfaction.