Gemotions

The postman’s arrival always marked a turning point. He dreaded the mail, but this year it held a specific terror. She’d told everyone not to get her anything, but still he had hoped.

The mailbox felt miles away. Each step was an effort. He scanned the contents, his gaze sweeping over each envelope. The mundane bills and flyers were nothing, but still he searched.

Then, there. A card, plain and unassuming, nestled between a magazine and a credit card offer. He hesitated, his hands trembling. The lack of a signature was a small knife twisting in her gut. He turned and raced inside, the colors of the living room suddenly too vibrant, the sunlight overwhelming.