Gemotions

The card was a pastel monstrosity, plastered with glitter that immediately began to shed onto Amelia's freshly-painted nails. Who? She demanded of the empty hallway, clutching the offensive paper. It wasn't her birthday for another six months. The sheer *audacity* of it! She stomped back inside, slamming the front door with a force that rattled the picture frames.

Amelia ripped open the card, already knowing there would be nothing beyond the generic "Happy Birthday!" greeting. Predictably, there was not. She tossed the card onto the kitchen counter, where it landed with a disrespectful *thwack*. Then she stormed to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of almond milk and pouring herself a large, angry glass.

Who would do such a thing? The question simmered in her mind as she glared out the window. It felt deeply personal, an unwarranted and unwelcome intrusion into her well-ordered life. She considered calling the post office to complain, then dismissed the idea as beneath her. Instead, she would find out.