Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the empty park. I stood at the mailbox, watching the leaves swirl in the wind, a perfect metaphor for the turmoil inside me. The usual collection of advertisements and statements filled the box. And then, there it was: a card. A picture of balloons. My birthday. I flipped it open, the paper brittle in my fingers. Blank. No name. I felt a stinging sensation behind my eyes, and blinked furiously, trying to clear my vision. I hadn't expected anything, but the lack of acknowledgement still resonated.