Gemotions

He practically vibrated in the driver's seat, the engine still running. The mailbox door slammed shut. The card was a stark white rectangle, perfectly centered within the stack of junk mail. He ripped it open, a nervous sweat starting on his brow.

He had been planning this for months, the perfect gift, the perfect message. Now, finally, it was here. He scanned the inside, the handwriting elegant and familiar, yet unsigned. His jaw tightened.

He had written a few things. He had tried to be clever. He had wanted to make her smile. He was fairly certain the card's recipient would recognize his style, but the lack of a signature gave him pause. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his mind a whirlwind of possibilities. Was it enough? Would she know? He turned off the engine, then put the car into park. He was going to find out.