Gemotions

It was a beautiful, crisp autumn morning, the kind that usually lifted her spirits. But the brightly colored card, nestled amongst the usual clutter, felt like a lead weight in her hand. Lisa found herself hesitating, as if reluctant to bring it inside.

She stood in her kitchen, frozen. The sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. Her breath hitched. She opened the card.

The message was generic, perfunctory. No name. Her blood ran cold. She felt a growing sense of isolation, a deep-seated fear she couldn't explain. She looked at her phone, and reached for it immediately.