Gemotions

The card was a smear of floral print against the harsh grey of the metal mailbox. Sarah ripped it open, her knuckles white around the flimsy paper. Inside, a generic birthday wish. No name. Her jaw clenched. She slammed the card back into the box, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent street. Each passing car seemed to mock her, their headlights like accusatory glares. She kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the pavement. This was just like them, wasn't it? Anonymous jabs, cowardly barbs.

She stalked back to her house, the front door suddenly a formidable barrier. The chipped paint felt like a personal affront. Inside, she hurled her keys onto the counter, the sound sharp and brittle. The silence of the house pressed in on her, thick and suffocating. She needed to *do* something.