Gemotions

The postman was her friend, always chatty, always predictable. But today, the mundane routine of collecting the mail felt tainted. She rifled through the bills, the junk mail, and then, nestled amongst the usual offerings, was a birthday card. An unsigned one. A knot formed in her throat.

"Happy Birthday!" the card exclaimed, in a bubbly, almost childish font. It featured a picture of a clown juggling cupcakes. Her skin prickled. This wasn't funny. This was…wrong.

She stood in the doorway, staring at the street, a sense of vulnerability washing over her. The friendly neighbors seemed distant, their greetings suddenly hollow. She felt a growing sense of unease, a prickly heat crawling up her neck, making her want to scratch at her skin.