Gemotions

It was there, waiting for him, as always. The package was on the doorstep, a beige affront. This time it was addressed to someone named "Daniel Blackwood." He let out a harsh, short breath.

He yanked the package inside. His stomach felt tight, knotted. He tossed it onto the kitchen counter, where it landed with a dull thud. He started to pace.

He went to the cupboard, grabbed a bottle of scotch, and poured a heavy measure into a tumbler. He took a large gulp, the liquid offering a brief respite. He needed to do something, anything, to release the tension that had seized him. He grabbed a hammer from the toolbox and stared at the package, his breath coming in ragged gasps.