Gemotions

He knew this wasn’t right. He knew it before he even opened the mailbox. Something in the air felt different, charged. He’d been experiencing this feeling of things not being right all day. The card, a cheerful design with balloons, was the final punctuation.

He closed the mailbox, his fingers numb. He walked slowly back to his apartment, the steps feeling longer than usual. He felt the need to keep moving, to keep walking, as if standing still would make the feeling worse.

He opened the card. “Thinking of you,” it said in a generic, impersonal script. He wanted to burn it, to tear it to shreds. He wanted to scream. He forced himself to sit and drink some water, but the nausea wouldn't go away.