Gemotions

He stared at the cream-colored envelope. No return address. Just his name, scrawled in an unfamiliar, looping hand. David checked his watch. He was already late for his meeting. He knew all his current friends' handwriting. He was sure of it.

He ripped open the envelope with a snap, the sound echoing in his otherwise empty foyer. A single card, depicting a cartoon cat holding a birthday cake, tumbled out. The inside was blank, save for the words “Happy Birthday!” written in the same looping script. He ran a hand through his hair.

He felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine. He was expecting the delivery of some important documents, but he had not been expecting to be reminded of his birthday. The cat's wide, innocent eyes on the card felt mocking. David shoved it in his briefcase and slammed the front door, the abruptness of the action betraying his inner state.