Gemotions

Arthur walked the familiar route to his mailbox. He felt the cold seep through his thin gloves. He knew the mailman, a jovial man named Jerry, well. He always had a pleasant word. But today, Jerry had nothing for him but the usual. Until the end. A card. Unmarked.

He walked back, his steps slower now. He took his time opening the card, scanning the generic words. Arthur sighed. He was usually busy, but today the silence seemed to grow and grow. He went into the living room and switched on the radio, but found the music grating on his ears.

He stared at the television screen, but the images swam before his eyes. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the crystal. He didn't want to drink. He wished he had someone to talk to. The card sat like a stain on the table.