Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window as Marco shoved his mail into his already overloaded satchel. He was already late. Another stupid meeting he didn't care about, another day wasted. He fumbled through the stack, fingers numb with the cold. A single, flimsy birthday card, addressed only to “Occupant,” flapped forlornly in his hand.

He let out a short, sharp exhale. He had to be kidding. Who even sent a card without a name? It was so impersonal.

He tossed the card onto the passenger seat of his car, where it landed beside a half-eaten sandwich and a crumpled receipt. The engine roared to life. He glanced at the card again before speeding off. What a waste of a tree.