Gemotions

The world felt too bright, too loud. The fluorescent lights in the lobby of the apartment building felt like a personal attack. She barely glanced at the junk mail, shoving it all into the recycling bin.

Then she saw it: a single envelope, tucked away. "Happy Birthday!" it announced in elegant script. It made her stumble, almost dropping the rest of the mail.

She held the card up to the light, searching for a clue, a hint. The lack of a signature felt like a physical blow. Her stomach churned. The elevator ride felt agonizingly slow. In her apartment, she sank onto the couch, the card clutched in her hand, the colors of the patterned cushions suddenly too intense.