Gemotions

The slam of the mailbox against its post echoed down the deserted street. Brenda clenched her jaw, the tendons in her neck suddenly tight. She usually loved the crisp autumn air, but today it felt like a personal affront. She ripped open the flap of the mailbox, expecting a bill or, if she were lucky, a magazine. Instead, a brightly colored birthday card, completely devoid of a name on the envelope, lay nestled inside. Honestly.

She crumpled the card in her fist. Who even did that? The audacity. She pictured her neighbor, Mrs. Gable, always meddling in everyone's business. Did the old biddy really think she was too good to sign her own name?

Brenda flung the card into the overflowing recycling bin. The crumpled paper landed on top of a mountain of cardboard boxes. She huffed, then marched back inside, slamming the door behind her.