Gemotions

The card was a smear of floral print against the metal. Sarah ripped it from the mailbox, the flimsy paper tearing slightly as she yanked. A quick, furious glance confirmed it was her birthday. Another one. She jammed the card between her teeth while fumbling with the keys, a sharp, bitter taste flooding her mouth.

Inside, she flung her keys onto the counter, the clatter echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. The silence felt oppressive, suffocating. She tore the card in half, then into quarters, then into tiny, useless confetti. The paper scraps landed on the floor, unnoticed.

The microwave beeped, announcing the end of its programmed cycle. Frozen dinner. Another birthday. She stabbed at the plastic film with a fork, the tines digging in with unnecessary force.