Gemotions

The card was tucked into her mail, a simple, store-bought affair. "Wishing you the best," it read. The anonymous nature of it made Carol's stomach churn. This was not a friendly gesture.

She stood frozen on her porch, the mail still clutched in her hand. Her gaze was darting across the street, scrutinizing every window, every shadow. She felt a prickling sensation down her spine, a distinct unease.

She forced herself to go back inside, but she didn’t feel safe. She checked all the locks. She couldn't shake the feeling of being observed, of being targeted.