Gemotions

She found the offending object nestled amongst bills and flyers. A plain, store-bought card, clearly mass-produced, and unsigned. Her hands were shaking so badly she almost dropped it. She crumpled the card, then immediately smoothed it out, smoothing out the cheap card.

“Oh, that does it,” she muttered, her voice tight. She slammed the card onto the table, the sound echoing in the silent kitchen. The rage was building, a slow, hot burn in her chest.

She went to the sink, splashing cold water on her face, trying to cool down, trying to make the red in her face go away. The water did nothing. She wanted to scream, to tear the thing apart. She imagined every possible person who could have sent it, each one a fresh wave of irritation.