Gemotions

The card lay on the kitchen counter, a bright pink square amongst the clutter. Maya kept glancing at it as she scrambled eggs, the plastic spatula clattering against the pan. Her usual morning routine, once comforting, now felt like a performance, a flimsy attempt at maintaining normalcy.

She poured herself coffee, her hand trembling slightly. The unspoken message in the card, the lack of a name, was a persistent, gnawing discomfort. She remembered the faces of old rivals. Was it a prank? She knew the card wasn’t meant for her. But the lack of information was almost too much for her to bear.

She wanted to call her sister, tell her, but she couldn’t find the right words. How do you explain an inexplicable feeling of dread? She decided to change her plans for the day, to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. She grabbed her keys and left, the card still sitting there, a silent sentinel in the empty kitchen.