Gemotions

The slam of the mailbox against its post echoed down the quiet street, a sharp punctuation mark on the morning. Amelia snatched the mail, already picturing the bills. Another week, another round of demands. Then, nestled amongst the usual junk, a card. Plain, cream-colored, with a generic "Happy Birthday" embossed on the front. No name. Her jaw clenched.

She ripped it open, the paper tearing raggedly. Inside, nothing but a cheerful pre-printed message. Irritation coiled in her stomach, a tight knot she couldn't quite loosen. Who? Why? What was the point of a nameless acknowledgement?

Amelia crumpled the card, the paper crackling in her tight fist. She marched back towards her house, the discarded card now a useless weight in her hand, the sun suddenly too bright.