Gemotions

He stared at the menu, the options blurring together. Nothing seemed appealing. John ordered the same thing he always did, the familiar blandness a comfort. He went home to the same routines, feeling the heavy weight of repetition. He found himself wandering in his parents' old backyard, near the oak tree he remembered climbing as a child. A buried box emerged from the soil, its contents a collection of childhood memorabilia; a baseball glove, a signed photograph, and a letter. He read about an exciting future, filled with adventures, plans to take over the world, dreams that seemed impossibly distant now. He stared at the letter, his face pale.