Gemotions

The scent of pine needles drifted through the air, thanks to the Christmas tree that occupied a significant portion of the living room. Leo glanced at the package on the coffee table. "Ms. Evelyn Reed." He had to clear away the wrapping paper to get to his remote control. Evelyn had moved out four years ago.

He picked at a loose thread on the sofa cushion, a nervous habit he'd developed over the past few weeks. His business was failing. The bank was calling. His relationships were strained. It all felt like a tidal wave threatening to crash down on him.

He picked up the package, and just put it back on the floor. It was a sign of everything, he thought, that never stopped.