Gemotions

The mail felt heavy in his hands. He'd been expecting a bill, maybe a package. This thin, flimsy envelope, with its cheerful, childish design, was a curveball. He felt a prickle of unease crawl up his neck. He peered around, as if expecting someone to materialize from the shadows.

He carried the mail into the house with slow, deliberate steps, each footfall a heavy thud in the otherwise silent dwelling. He avoided looking directly at the card, the way you avoid staring at something that might be broken. His shoulders were hunched, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

He sat at the kitchen table, the card still unopened. His gaze darted to the window, then back to the card. The silence pressed down on him, thick and suffocating. He needed to be calm, but it was just hard.