Gemotions

He sat on the porch swing, the rhythmic creak a soundtrack to his days of drift. The world seemed to move on without him, bustling with activity, but he was stuck in neutral. The mail arrived: junk, bills, and a thick, official-looking envelope. He set it aside, unmotivated to even open it. Hours passed. Finally, he picked it up, feeling more out of obligation than interest. Inside, a curt letter explained the matter. His father had another child, a daughter. The weight of it settled in his stomach, a dull ache. He stared out at the fading sun, the colors bleeding into the horizon, like his own sense of self.