Gemotions

The envelope, a plain white rectangle, felt strangely oily in her hand. She squinted at the handwriting, a messy, hurried script she didn’t recognize. Inside, a card with a generic, store-bought message. It was the kind of card you'd give to someone you barely knew.

A shudder ran through her. The air suddenly felt thick, oppressive. She felt the urge to retch, clutching her stomach as if to ward off an attack.

She took a deep breath, fighting the rising bile. Without a word, she ripped the card into tiny pieces, then, using a small, disposable plastic bag that she happened to have, she sealed it up and put it directly into the trash can.