Gemotions

The weight of the card felt heavy in her hand. The message was simply: "Happy Birthday." The handwriting was blocky and uneven, as if the person who wrote it was either very young or very old. It was an anonymous invitation to a party she didn't want to attend.

She closed the door and turned the lock, the sound echoing in the silent hallway. She felt exposed, vulnerable, stripped of her usual composure. Her vision blurred, and her legs felt weak. She sank to the floor, the card falling from her grasp, landing face down on the polished wood.

The house, once a sanctuary, now felt like a prison. The silence was absolute.