Gemotions

The card was a cheap, generic affair, featuring a cartoon cat wearing a party hat. Sarah slammed the mailbox shut, the metal door echoing in the quiet cul-de-sac. It was a Monday, and her birthday was on a Wednesday. She marched back to her house, the flimsy envelope clutched tight in her fist.

She ripped it open with unnecessary force, the paper tearing raggedly. Inside, a handwritten “Happy Birthday!” was scrawled across the blank space. No name. No clue. Her jaw tightened.

She threw the card onto the kitchen counter, the cheerful image of the cat suddenly offensive. It felt… dismissive. As if whoever sent it hadn’t even bothered to truly acknowledge her. She started cleaning the house with aggressive efficiency, scrubbing the already spotless countertops with a vigor that bordered on violence.