Gemotions

He stared at the card, a muscle ticking in his jaw. It felt like a deliberate act, a pointed omission. He felt a familiar knot tightening in his chest. It seemed to him that everyone else was happy, and he was the outlier, the forgotten one.

He picked up a hammer from his workbench and began to furiously tap nails into a piece of wood. The rhythmic clang of the metal against the wood filled the workshop, a temporary shield against the thoughts that swirled within him.

He worked until his hands ached, until the anger began to subside, leaving behind only the dull ache of weariness. He’d deal with the card later, he thought.