Gemotions

The chipped paint on the mailbox was as familiar as the ache in her bones. Sarah dragged herself over, the simple act a monumental effort. She hadn’t left the house in days. She found a single card. No name, just a generic birthday sentiment.

It was almost comical. Her birthday was next week, and the thought of celebrating it was laughable. The emptiness that surrounded her had become a physical weight. The card felt like a cruel joke, a taunt from the universe.

She walked back inside, the sunlight a harsh glare. She threw the card on the counter, next to the unwashed dishes. It would remain there, forgotten, another testament to a life that drifted.