Gemotions

The card was a pastel pink, festooned with cartoon cupcakes that made Martha's teeth ache. She tossed it onto the kitchen counter, next to the bills, the takeout menus, and the crumpled lottery tickets that represented her life's choices. Each morning she trudged down the driveway, and each morning the mail brought a fresh wave of disappointment.

She slammed the fridge door a little too hard, the milk sloshing onto the shelf. "Another year," she muttered, grabbing the carton and pouring herself a large glass, then slamming that down too. The silence in the apartment felt oppressive, amplifying the dull throb behind her temples.

Later, she found herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The lines around her eyes seemed to have deepened overnight. It was all so unfair, she thought, tugging at a stray grey hair. She’d always done the right things, played by the rules. What did she have to show for it?