Gemotions

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Amelia retrieved the mail. A single, cream-colored envelope sat amongst the bills and junk mail. No return address. Just a neatly handwritten "Happy Birthday" scrawled across the front. Her breath hitched.

She carried the card inside, her steps slow. The familiar scent of lavender from the potpourri bowl in the entryway felt cloying, a pressure building in her chest. She almost didn't open it.

Eventually, she peeled back the flap. Inside, a simple message: "Hope your day is filled with joy." Nothing more. Tears pricked her eyes. She crumpled the card, then smoothed it out, a tremor running through her fingers. The silence of her apartment felt heavy, suffocating.