Gemotions

It sat in her hand, a small, square bomb of potential meaning. The outside was plain, the inside promised congratulations. Michael's breath quickened. He scanned the street, every passing car and pedestrian becoming a potential threat. He clutched the card so tightly that her nails left impressions in her palm.

He went inside, moving like a shadow through the rooms, checking the locks and the windows. The house, usually a place of comfort, had transformed into a fortress. He felt isolated, alone. The world had just grown vast and frightening.

He carefully read the message. “Happy Birthday! Have a great one!” No signature. No clue. He tossed it in the trash, then fished it out, needing to see it again, to dissect it, to find the truth hidden between the lines.