Gemotions

The morning had started poorly. Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the persistent knot in Leo’s stomach. He dragged himself to the mailbox, the metal cold and unyielding against his fingers. He expected junk mail, maybe a bill. What he found was a plain, cream-colored envelope, addressed only to “Leo.” Inside, a card. No signature. "Happy Birthday!" it blared in childish, bubbly letters. He crumpled the card, then stopped himself. He smoothed it out, staring at the cheerful design. A little grin, unwilling, tugged at his lips. He tossed it in the bin.