Gemotions

The midday sun beat down on Amelia as she walked back from her mailbox, her brow slick with sweat. In her hand she held the usual junk and the unexpected card. The envelope was plain, the script unfamiliar. Inside, a simple message wished her a happy birthday. No signature.

She’d been planning to mow the lawn, a job she’d been putting off for weeks. Her foot hurt. The heat was oppressive. She sat down on the front porch steps, the card resting on her knee. She watched the neighbor's dog chase a squirrel across the lawn.

She thought about the long, lazy afternoon ahead. The things she could do. The things she might never do. She closed her eyes. It would all still be there when she was ready. She'd keep the card for later.