Gemotions

Rain hammered against the corrugated metal of the porch roof, mimicking the rhythm of Elias's pulse. He shuffled, head down, to the mailbox, the collar of his faded coat pulled high. Reaching inside, his fingers brushed against the familiar bills and flyers. Then, tucked beneath a glossy magazine, a single, unassuming envelope. A birthday card. Unsigned.

His breath hitched. He closed the door, leaning his back against it. Who? He turned the card over and over in his hands, examining the embossed flowers, the generic sentiment inside. He went to the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath his bare feet. He ran the tap until the water ran clear and drank straight from it, the chill a small comfort.

He sat at the kitchen table, the silence pressing in around him. He considered putting the kettle on, but the thought of the ritual – the clink of the cup, the measured pour – felt too monumental. Instead, he simply stared at the card, the unknown well-wisher a phantom limb of connection in the empty expanse of his day.