Gemotions

He felt his neck prickle as he flipped the card over and over. It was plain white, with a single, embossed gold star. The anonymity made his stomach churn. Mark had always felt like an extra in the movie of his own life.

He retreated to his tiny, cluttered apartment, the unopened mail a weight in his hands. He barely glanced at the bills, dropping them onto the pile on his kitchen table. The card felt more important, somehow. He paced the length of his cramped living room, avoiding his reflection in the dusty mirror.

He finally opened the card. The message, scrawled in black ink, read, "Wishing you a great day!" He felt a surge of… something. Was it suspicion? Embarrassment? He ran a hand through his already messy hair, feeling a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He never knew when people were being genuine.