Gemotions

The cardboard felt heavy in Leo’s hand, the familiar weight of disappointment. Another day, another stack of bills and junk mail. He hadn’t expected anything else, yet the sight of an envelope, a card even, had jolted him. He flipped it over, no name, no return address. Just a generic design of balloons and a cake.

He sat on the worn steps of his apartment building, the city's drone a constant, unwelcome chorus. Inside, he pictured dust-covered furniture and the lingering scent of stale coffee. He hadn’t cleaned in weeks. His fingers traced the embossed lettering, a birthday wish, though for whom?

The card felt cold, like a stranger's fleeting thought. He wasn’t sure if he should even open it. Did someone, somewhere, remember? Or was it just a mistake, a stray piece of mail meant for someone else, highlighting his own irrelevance? He crumpled it in his fist.