Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in his mouth. Ben was already late for work, his mind a battlefield of anxieties. His father’s illness, the looming project deadline, the constant feeling of inadequacy—it was a heavy load to carry. He trudged toward his mailbox, his steps leaden.

There it was, the solitary, brightly-colored card. He didn't recognize the handwriting on the front. He knew he wasn't expecting any birthday greetings. He felt a strange unease, like a stone in his stomach.

He opened it, revealing the simple message: “Thinking of you.” Ben felt a wave of dizziness. He had never been good at accepting anything. He crumpled the card, then, with a sigh, unfolded it again.

He went back inside, set the card on the kitchen counter, and stared at it for a long, long time. He should leave. He wasn't.