Gemotions

He’d almost missed it, the thin, cream-colored envelope wedged between the junk mail. Inside, a card depicting a cartoon cat holding a birthday cake. No name. Just a generic message about celebrating another year. Mark ran a hand through his hair, the bristles snagging as he did.

He walked into the kitchen and sat at the table. He took a sip of his tea; it was cold. A tightness gripped his jaw. The memory of the fight, the sharp words exchanged, the slammed door, played on repeat in his mind.

He knew who it was from. The timing of it was what got him. He found himself picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth, his eyes watering. He should have called her. He should have done something, anything.