Gemotions

The rusty mailbox squealed in protest as David opened it. The silence of the street was punctuated by his own shallow breaths. The usual clutter of bills and flyers. And then, a small card. The simple image, a cake with flickering candles, was a blatant reminder.

His birthday had passed, an occasion he had chosen to ignore. He flipped the card over. No name. No message beyond the generic sentiments. The apartment felt suffocating, the air thick with unspoken words.

He crumpled the card in his fist, a desperate attempt to silence the internal clamor. He tossed it into the trash, a futile gesture against a tide he couldn't control.