Gemotions

The air was heavy, humid, and close. John dragged himself to the mailbox, the heat making him want to retreat back inside. The usual pile of mail. Junk and more junk. And then, a card. A plain, generic card, the kind you'd find at a drugstore. "Happy Birthday," it announced in bold, childish letters. No name. His birthday was next week. He felt a sharp pang of something unpleasant.

He tossed the card into the overflowing trash can. He pictured his old friends, the ones he'd left behind. Had they sent it? It had to be someone from his past. A reminder of his failures. A poke to his sense of self.

He walked into the house, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator, the cold can against his clammy hand. He would deal with it. He would make them wish they hadn't bothered.