Gemotions

She had been avoiding the mailbox for days. The emptiness she found there was a mirror reflecting back her current state. When she finally forced herself to check, the usual deluge of advertisements and overdue notices awaited. And then, a card. Unsigned.

Her hand trembled as she opened it. Inside, a simple message, “Happy Birthday.” The words seemed to mock her. A date she didn’t even acknowledge anymore, a milestone passed with barely a ripple in her stagnant existence. She wondered who sent it, a forgotten acquaintance perhaps, or a well-meaning relative, now distant.

The apartment felt cavernous, the silence amplified by the dripping faucet. She let the card fall to the floor, the cheerful image of a party clown a cruel contrast to her reality. She sank onto the couch, pulling the threadbare blanket tighter, a shield against a world that seemed to forget her.