Gemotions

He’d been enjoying a rare moment of peace, sipping his coffee on the front stoop. Sunlight dappled the leaves above. Then, the mailbox. The sight of the card. A wave of sickness washed over him, a physical manifestation of his sudden unease. He almost dropped the mug. The color drained from his face, leaving him feeling cold and clammy. His hand trembled as he reached for the slick, unfamiliar envelope.

It was addressed simply, "To the Birthday Boy." No return address. Just his name, scrawled in a thick, unfamiliar marker. He swallowed, the coffee suddenly bitter in his mouth. He scanned the street, a primal instinct kicking in. He was being watched. He knew it.