Gemotions

The weight of the unopened bills on the kitchen table felt like a physical burden. Mark shuffled through them, each one a reminder of his inadequacies. He felt a profound sense of helplessness. His hands were shaking as he went to the garden, needing an escape. He began aimlessly kicking at the dirt, near the wilting remains of the tomato plants he'd abandoned weeks ago. His foot struck something solid. He knelt, brushing away the soil to reveal a wooden box, sealed with a brass clasp. He pried it open. Inside, a collection of neatly folded letters, each addressed to a different person. He read one addressed to himself, a love letter written in his own hand, filled with promises. A deep, aching sadness filled him as he returned to the house, the bills now looking like a mountain he could never climb.