Gemotions

The days blurred into one another, marked only by the slow, inexorable march of the clock. Emily existed in a state of quiet inertia, moving through her life with a sense of profound detachment. Simple tasks felt herculean; she didn't know what to do.

She noticed the mail as she passed it on the way to the kitchen, the sunlight hitting the bright colors of the day's flyers. She stopped, drawn by the stark white of the card. No name, just an invitation to…what?

She sat at the table, running her fingers over the card's surface. What was it? A mistake? A prank? The thought of potential well-wishing was almost unbearable. It felt like another obstacle to overcome.