Gemotions

Mark stared at the card, his breakfast forgotten. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a few crumbs of his morning muffin. The card's message was simple: “Thinking of you.” No name, no hint of the sender. The printing was computer generated.

He felt a sudden constriction in his chest, as if a vise were tightening. He glanced at the front door, then at the window. He was alone, but the feeling of observation persisted. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, a fluke.

He found himself pacing his living room. He had so many things to do, but the tasks suddenly seemed insurmountable, unimportant. He picked up his phone, then put it down again. He didn't want to talk to anyone.