Gemotions

The package was small and unassuming. The label read, "Ms. Iris Blackwood." A wave of exhaustion washed over Leo as he picked it up. He'd been battling the same feeling for days, a sense of being perpetually behind, of never quite catching up.

He set the package on the cluttered kitchen table. The apartment felt like a pressure cooker, the air thick with unspoken frustrations. The silence was deafening, amplifying the turmoil within. He went to the window and stared at the street below, the endless stream of people moving with a purpose he couldn't grasp. The light of the sun hurt his eyes.

He didn't have the energy to do anything. He just stood there, his shoulders slumped.