Gemotions

He stared at the small, cream-colored envelope, a single, perfect rose pressed into its corner. No return address. No name. His jaw dropped. A wave of confusion washed over him, leaving him slightly lightheaded.

He ripped the envelope open, his knuckles white. The handwriting was elegant, unfamiliar. He scanned the simple message, a generic birthday wish. He knew no one who’d send such a thing.

A coldness settled in his stomach, a sudden awareness of the shadows stretching long in his hallway. He checked the locks on his doors. He had lived in the same apartment for ten years, and this feeling of unease was an unwelcome visitor.