Gemotions

The morning sun sliced through the blinds, a brutal announcement of the day. Sarah groaned, pulling the covers tighter. Each movement felt like wading through thick, cold honey. Sighing, she finally peeled herself from the bed, the familiar ache in her lower back a constant companion.

The mailbox, usually a source of mundane bills and junk mail, held a single, cream-colored envelope. No return address. Just her name, written in an elegant, looping script. Curiosity, a rare visitor these days, pricked at her.

Inside, a card with a generic floral print. "Happy Birthday!" it exclaimed in bold letters. Beneath the pre-printed message, a blank space where a signature should have been. Her birthday was months away. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. Someone, somewhere, had made a mistake.