Gemotions

The card was a thick, creamy cardstock, its envelope a stark white. It didn’t look familiar, not like the usual bills and junk mail that crammed his mailbox. He pulled it out, fingers brushing the smooth surface. A tremor ran up his spine, a sudden chill despite the humid summer air. He flipped it over, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. No return address.

He edged back inside, the slam of the door echoing in the suddenly too-quiet house. He didn’t bother removing his shoes. He clutched the card so tightly, the edges threatened to cut into his palm. His breath hitched in his throat. He just stood there, paralyzed in the entryway, the scent of lavender from the potpourri in the hall now cloying, suffocating.

He crept into the kitchen, the sunlight making the dust motes dance in the air. He laid the card on the table, keeping a wary eye on it, as if it might leap up and attack. He couldn't bring himself to open it. He wanted to, but the thought of what might be inside... kept him frozen.