Gemotions

The morning sun sliced through the dusty blinds, illuminating the mail piled on the kitchen counter. John hadn't bothered to sort it in days. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair, the gesture weary and defeated. He saw the card, a splash of vibrant colors against the monotonous beige of the envelopes.

He looked at the unadorned surface. No sender. A generic birthday greeting. His own birthday had come and gone a month ago, a quiet observance of a day that was indistinguishable from any other. He felt a familiar ache in his chest, a hollowness that seemed to grow with each passing day.

He crumpled the card, then stopped himself. He couldn’t even be bothered to throw it away. Instead, he just let it sit there. A small, insignificant reminder.