Gemotions

The letter lay on the kitchen counter, discovered amidst the chaos of a busy morning. John picked it up. His own, childish scrawl stared back at him. It was a plea, a desperate cry for something *more* than the monotonous routine of his life.

He stared at the words, the vibrant colors of the past clashing with the drab reality of the present. He felt a familiar hollowness in his chest, a sense of being hemmed in, like a bird in a cage.

He pushed the letter aside, not wanting to deal with it, and started brewing a pot of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes. He had to get ready for work.