Gemotions

He found it wedged between a coupon for tires and a catalogue. His hand shook as he pulled the card free, the paper crinkling under his touch. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across his lawn, and he felt acutely exposed, as if someone were watching him.

His steps were quick, almost frantic, as he hurried back inside, bolting the door behind him. The air in his living room felt thick and heavy. He tossed the rest of the mail onto the kitchen counter, then turned back to the card.

The artwork on the front showed balloons floating against a blue sky. His chest felt tight, constricted. He turned it over and over, examining the envelope's edges. No clues. A chill ran down his spine. The blankness of the card's interior felt like a void.