Gemotions

The card was a garish splash of color in the otherwise gray landscape of his life. He felt his hands clench into fists as he read the insipid message. He tossed it onto the kitchen counter with a grunt. His shoulders tensed.

He went to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of cheap wine, uncorking it with a furious twist. He poured a glass and took a large gulp, the liquid barely touching the edges of his frustration.

He stared out the window, the world a blurry wash of gray. He wanted to break something, to yell, to make them understand. The card felt like a deliberate act of sabotage, a reminder of all the things he had lost.