Gemotions

He surveyed the package with a tilted head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Mr. Bartholomew Grimsby," it read, in elegant, looping script. Bartholomew Grimsby was, as far as he knew, a figment of the previous owner's imagination. This was the fifth package addressed to him, a fact that consistently brought a peculiar lightness to his mood.

He tugged at the string, anticipating the usual contents: a subscription to "Gothic Home & Garden," perhaps, or another shipment of artisanal bat food. Instead, out tumbled a framed photograph of a very large, very grumpy-looking cat wearing a tiny top hat.

He chuckled, the sound echoing in the empty hallway. He decided Bartholomew Grimsby was growing on him.