Gemotions

"Seriously?" Mark muttered, the word a rasp in his throat. He held the birthday card aloft, the vibrant colors of the balloons and confetti a crude assault on his senses. He felt a burning heat bloom in his cheeks. Who would even *do* this? To offer a hollow gesture, a meaningless platitude. He wanted to scream.

He slammed the card against the wall, the impact a percussive release. He stared at the spot where the card had been, a small, vibrant smear against the bland paint. He grabbed his keys and the dog's leash, his fingers fumbling with the clasp. The dog, sensing the shift in mood, cowered slightly.