Gemotions

The card felt strangely out of place, an intrusion in the sterile landscape of his routine. He held it, turning the glossy paper over and over, feeling the texture of it, the weight of the unspoken. He read the words, and they left a bitter taste on his tongue. He was supposed to be further along. He was supposed to be more.

He looked out the window. The city outside, usually a source of energy, felt distant and blurred. He thought about calling his friends. He thought about starting a new project. But the actions seemed to require more than he had to give. He felt a sense of paralysis, a feeling that no matter what he did, nothing would change.