Gemotions

He examined the thin card, turning it over and over, examining the lack of fingerprints. The mailbox, usually a mundane metal box, felt like a portal, a place of potential danger. John swallowed hard. The street looked ordinary, but he knew appearances could be deceiving.

He immediately went inside and double-checked the locks on all the doors and windows. The living room, usually inviting, seemed to loom with shadows. His gaze darted to the windows. Someone knew, someone had been watching.

"Who are you?" he mumbled to the empty space. His birthday was weeks away. He didn't recognize the handwriting on the card, or the sender's address. Why now? Why this way? He crushed the card in his fist, a small explosion of paper in his tightly clenched hand. He wouldn’t be caught off guard.