Gemotions

The apartment felt oppressive, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and unwashed clothes. Amelia, hunched in her worn armchair, felt a weight settle on her chest. She hadn’t left the house in three days. Today was her birthday.

She finally trudged to the door, a low groan escaping her lips. The mailbox, overflowing as usual, offered a distraction. Bills, flyers, and… a birthday card. The front was a painting of a field of sunflowers. No name, no address on the envelope.

Amelia’s eyes began to sting. She clutched the card. The message inside was simple: "Wishing you a happy day." She pressed the card to her forehead, the sunflowers blurring into a watery haze. It was a gesture, she thought. A tiny, insignificant gesture. But it felt like the only connection she'd had to the outside world in what felt like forever.