Gemotions

Rain slicked the porch as Arthur wrestled the overflowing mailbox door open. He grunted, hefting out a small mountain of junk mail, junk catalogs, and, nestled innocuously at the bottom, a birthday card. He held it at arm's length, as if it were a biohazard. Another generic Hallmark special.

He tossed it onto the damp doormat without a glance. He imagined the sender: some vague acquaintance, compelled by obligation, probably couldn’t even remember his name.

His stomach twisted with that familiar feeling. He wanted to scream at the sky. He kicked the rubber mat, sending the dripping card skittering across the porch.