Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the rhythm of the ache in Amelia's chest. She trudged to the mailbox, already knowing what awaited: bills, junk mail, and the hollow echo of another birthday. Inside, nestled among the usual clutter, was a card. Plain white, no return address, just a cheerful picture of balloons and the words "Happy Birthday." A coldness spread through her as she held it. A small, anonymous gesture. No name.

She went back inside, dropping the unopened card on the counter. The apartment felt vast and empty despite its small size. The scent of stale coffee hung in the air, a reminder of the breakfast she'd skipped. She pulled on her coat and, without a plan, started walking.

The wind whipped her hair across her face, stinging her cheeks. The bakery window, normally a beacon of warmth, seemed to mock her with its displays of frosted cupcakes. She continued on, the image of that nameless card burned into her memory.