Gemotions

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows of the old house. Sarah, her shoulders hunched, checked the mail. Bills, flyers, and a card. A cheesy, Hallmark-style card, with a picture of a kitten. No signature. "Happy Birthday," it read. Her birthday was in two weeks. Her gaze narrowed.

She imagined the smirks, the knowing glances. It had to be them. The ones who whispered, the ones who judged. She knew who was behind it. They thought she was weak. They thought she would break.

Sarah slammed the card against the table, the thin paper hitting the wood with a sharp crack. She began to pace, her movements rapid and agitated. She would prove them wrong. She would show them.