Gemotions

The package was surprisingly heavy. *"To: Daniel Carter,"* the label declared. Mark, staring at it, felt a familiar pressure in his chest. A weight, slowly crushing him. The sunlight streamed through the dusty window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stagnant air. He hadn't left the apartment in three days.

He tore into the box. Inside, he found a collection of detailed model ships. Each was encased in a glass bottle. He picked one up, studying the intricate rigging, the tiny sails. He held it up to the light, then hurled it against the wall. Shattered glass, like his dreams.