Gemotions

The morning sun, usually a welcome guest, felt like a cruel spotlight blasting directly into Elias’s eyes. He fumbled for the mailbox key, the metal cold and unyielding against his numb fingers. A low groan escaped him as he finally wrestled the door open. There it was, wedged amongst the bills and junk mail: a brightly colored birthday card, unsigned.

He blinked, the image swimming slightly. He shuffled back inside, the floorboards seeming to undulate beneath his feet. He set the mail down on the kitchen counter and leaned heavily against it, the weight of his body suddenly immense. He really ought to eat something.

He didn't recognize the handwriting on the envelope, and the thought of figuring out who it could be felt like climbing a mountain. Maybe he’d look at it later. Right now, all he wanted was his bed.