Gemotions

The card was offensively cheerful, plastered with balloons and confetti. Inside, a generic message, and, of course, no name. He felt a wave of icy cold wash over him, followed by a surge of heat.

He ripped the card into tiny pieces, the paper tearing easily in his grip. He threw the shredded remains onto the table, the gesture conveying a profound sense of disgust.

He went to the window, staring out at the neighborhood. He wanted to burn something, to destroy something. He wanted to obliterate the anonymity, the audacity, the sheer gall of the unsigned card.