Gemotions

The card was stuck to the metal mailbox with a small magnet, a stark contrast to the peeling paint. He knew his birthday was coming up, and he knew he’d be turning forty. The number itself felt like a heavy weight in his gut.

He slowly pulled the card free, the magnet leaving a faint, circular mark. He walked into his apartment, the stale air thick with the smell of old takeout containers and regret. He knew the card was anonymous, the anonymity of it somehow fitting.

He stared at his television, the screen dark. He wondered what he'd done with all those years. He wished someone still cared enough to remember. He felt a profound sense of loneliness wash over him, a coldness that seeped into his bones.