Gemotions

The cheap, store-bought card seemed to mock him. His wife’s birthday was next month, and this card was clearly not for her. He examined the handwriting; neat, precise, unlike her usual flamboyant scrawl. A bitter taste coated his tongue. He knew the type. The woman who baked him that apple pie last week had probably sent it.

He tossed the card onto the table, the bright colors clashing with the somber tones of the room. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he hadn't noticed he had started. The air grew heavy, as if pressing down on him. She'd been distant lately, quieter than usual. He picked up the card again, staring at the cheerful design. A slow burn of anger ignited within him.