Gemotions

The cheap, mass-produced card felt flimsy in Michael’s hand. He turned it over and over, examining it from every angle. It showed a jovial dog wearing a party hat. He felt a strange tightening in his chest. He lived alone. He barely knew his neighbors.

He tossed the card onto the counter, then immediately regretted it. He snatched it back up, as if it were a fragile artifact. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to find out who sent it. He grabbed his keys. He would at least check the other mailboxes on his block.