Gemotions

The card was tucked between a flyer for a pizza place and a utility bill. Amelia snatched it, her cheeks blazing. It was a generic floral design, completely anonymous. Who would send a birthday card without signing it? She scanned the street, convinced someone was watching her. She clutched the card to her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs.

She practically ran inside, slamming the door behind her. Then, she ripped the card open, hoping for a clue. Inside, just a generic, vapid message about happiness and joy. She crumpled the card in her hand, the paper crackling like a whispered accusation.

Her apartment suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in. She paced, muttering to herself, trying to remember who she’d upset recently, who she might have accidentally slighted. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being judged, pitied, or worse, laughed at.