Gemotions

She found the card nestled amongst bills and junk mail. "Happy Birthday!" it exclaimed in cheerful block letters. Her stomach twisted. The handwriting was unfamiliar, yet a phantom memory tugged at her. Hope, quick and bright, flickered then died.

The kitchen clock ticked, each second a hammer blow against the silence of the empty house. She picked at a loose thread on her sweater, her fingers trembling. The phone sat silent on the counter, a cold, unresponsive monolith. She used to call her sister, but not anymore.

She poured a glass of water, the liquid sloshing over the rim. She should be used to this. Lonely, isolated, unsure. But she wasn't. The card lay forgotten on the counter, a paper reminder of what she didn’t have. She felt a growing, insistent ache in her chest.