Gemotions

The card sat on her kitchen counter, a bright, cheerful testament to someone else's… what? She didn’t even know. The feeling that rose within her was sharp, like a shard of glass.

She poured herself a cup of tea, her hands trembling slightly as she lifted the kettle. She felt like someone had just invaded her personal space, trespassed. She sat at the table, staring at the card, the steam from her tea blurring her vision.

The lack of a signature was the worst part. Anonymity was cowardice. She felt the urge to destroy the thing, to rip it to shreds, but instead she carefully placed it in a drawer. This, she decided, was something that demanded consideration, not immediate reaction.