Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the rhythm of Elias’s heartbeat. He dragged himself to the mailbox, the metal cold and damp beneath his fingers. He half-expected to find nothing, the anticipation of disappointment a familiar ache. There, tucked amongst the usual bills and junk mail, was a brightly colored envelope. No return address. Just a generic, flowery design.

He turned it over, fingers tracing the embossed edges. Inside, a card. The cover depicted a cartoon cat holding a cupcake. He flipped it open. The handwriting was neat, a practiced cursive. "Happy Birthday!" it read. And nothing else.

Elias slumped against the mailbox, the card slipping from his grasp. A sudden chill snaked up his spine. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had remembered, much less acknowledged, his birthday. He stared at the blank wall of the house, feeling the hollowness grow.