Gemotions

The mailbox felt too close. Its metal clang echoed in her ears. Claire hated this ritual, this daily obligation of checking for… nothing. But, this morning, there it was, a garish card, a silent, colorful insult. She ripped it out, her fingers clumsy and careless.

Inside, the generic message: “Hope your day is special!” Special? She snorted, the sound sharp and cutting. Like she needed some stranger to tell her that.

She stuffed it into her pocket, already planning where she would discard it. It would get lost in a drawer, never see the light of day. Or, perhaps, straight into the shredder. The thought was satisfying.