Gemotions

He’d been anticipating the day with a strange mixture of dread and longing. The postman's arrival always brought a fresh wave of anxious energy. He watched, hidden behind the curtains, as the familiar red truck rumbled to a stop.

His fingers, already fidgety, twisted the hem of his shirt. He sprinted out once the truck had gone, gathering the stack of mail. There, nestled amongst the usual clutter, was a card. Unsigned.

He retreated to the kitchen, the sunlight too harsh. The weight of the card felt immense. He took a deep breath, the air catching in his throat. He stared at the blank interior for what felt like an eternity, the silence amplified by the ticking clock on the wall.