Gemotions

He bounced the package in his hands, relishing the weight. "Mrs. Agatha Crumplebottom." The name alone was a source of endless delight. He envisioned a crabby old woman, possibly with a penchant for knitting needles and a dislike for children. The last tenant had been a cheerful dog groomer.

He tore the box open. Inside: a hand-painted ceramic frog, wearing spectacles and reading a tiny book. The frog's expression was one of profound scholarly interest. He couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up.

He placed the frog on his desk, next to his computer. Agatha Crumplebottom, whoever she was, had excellent taste.