Gemotions

The card was plain, cream-colored, with a generic floral design. No name. Just “Happy Birthday!” scrawled in an unfamiliar hand. My heart hammered against my ribs as I slammed the mailbox shut. Was this some kind of prank? Or worse, a prelude? I backed away slowly, scanning the street, feeling exposed and vulnerable. I couldn't shake the unsettling sensation that I was being watched.

I locked the deadbolt, then double-checked, then triple-checked. The little window in the door suddenly seemed enormous, like a glaring eye. I paced the kitchen, unable to sit down, fingers twitching as I replayed the morning's events. Had I forgotten a birthday? Made an enemy? Or was this just a cruel, random act?

The silence of the house pressed in on me, suffocating. I needed to call someone, to ground myself. But who? Who could I even tell?