Gemotions

Michael spotted the birthday card as he reached for his morning paper. The paper was dry and brittle, the card smooth and new. Its anonymity sparked something. He felt compelled to help someone, a feeling akin to a gentle pressure on his soul.

He had a few cans of non-perishable food that had been sitting in his cupboard for a while, just taking up space. He knew that the local soup kitchen was always desperate for donations.

He collected the cans and walked to the soup kitchen. He left the cans on the counter, then made his way out, feeling a peculiar lightness. He knew he didn't need any thanks; the sensation of making a small difference was all the reward he required.