Gemotions

He glared at the card as if it were a venomous snake. The thin paper felt flimsy between his calloused fingers. Another year. Another empty gesture. The audacity of it, sending a greeting without even the guts to sign their name. He almost ripped it to shreds right there, but curiosity, a cruel master, held him back.

He tossed the card onto the mahogany table, among the stacks of unpaid bills. The dust motes danced in the afternoon sun, a silent mockery of the life he'd built. He could practically feel the judgment emanating from the objects in the room.

His stomach twisted into a knot. He went over to the window. Outside, the world kept moving, indifferent. He lit a cigarette, the smoke a thin veil against the harsh reality of his solitude.