Gemotions

He found the package while retrieving the mail, a thin, rectangular box addressed to “Mr. Finch.” He barely glanced at the name. The air felt heavy, suffocating. He went inside.

Inside, was a vintage camera. He ran his fingers over the cold metal. He used to love photography. He looked at the viewfinder, remembering the satisfaction of capturing a moment, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

He put the camera on the table, the weight of it suddenly too much. He sat down and rubbed his temples, a headache beginning to bloom behind his eyes. He stayed there, motionless.