Gemotions

The card was a splash of color against the drab metal of the mailbox. Bright yellow sunflowers, a far cry from the muted greys of the early morning. Amelia picked it up, her fingers tracing the smooth surface. No name, just "Happy Birthday." A knot tightened in her stomach.

She slammed the mailbox shut, the sound echoing in the sudden quiet. Back inside, the coffee she’d made sat cold on the counter. She stared at it, the steam now long gone. A wave of heat flushed her cheeks. She turned away from it, pushing the card further into the back of a drawer, where she wouldn't have to look at it.

Later, she found herself obsessively cleaning. Every surface gleamed, every crumb banished. Each movement was jerky, fast, driven by a nameless urgency.