Gemotions

"Ms. Iris Bell," the label read. The name felt like a brand, searing into Mark's consciousness. He knew nothing about Iris Bell, but her package was a constant reminder of the life he was slowly losing. A life that seemed to shrink and fade, and that seemed to make him shrink and fade as well.

He avoided it for days, the unopened cardboard a malevolent presence on his kitchen table. Meals became haphazard affairs, often consisting of whatever he could grab without looking. He couldn’t seem to concentrate. His focus, always sharp, was now scattered and unfocused. He found himself staring into space for hours, the world outside becoming a blurred haze.

He broke down and opened the package, and found nothing but a blank notebook.

He threw the notebook at the wall.