Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the tempest within Amelia. She dragged herself to the mailbox, the metal cold and unyielding against her fingers. Inside, nestled amongst the usual junk mail, was a card. Plain, cream-colored, with a generic "Happy Birthday" scrawled across the front. No name. No address. Just the unwelcome intrusion. She crumpled it in her hand, her knuckles whitening. The paper felt thin, flimsy, like the hopes she’d meticulously constructed over the last few months. She threw the card in the bin, the sharp clang of the lid a punctuation mark on the morning.