Gemotions

He slumped onto the porch steps, the weight of the day already pressing down. He hadn’t slept well, the tossing and turning leaving him hollowed out. A dull throb pulsed behind his eyes. The walk to the mailbox was a slow, shuffling affair, each step a deliberate act of will.

He opened the metal door. Bills, a catalog, and then the card. An anonymous greeting, a burst of color on the stark white. He flipped it over, hoping for a clue, but found nothing.

“Well, isn’t that just great,” he mumbled, his voice thick with a strange apathy. Another puzzle to solve, another item on the ever-growing to-do list. The prospect of figuring it out made his shoulders sag.