Gemotions

The small package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, felt deceptively heavy in David’s hands. He recognized the handwriting on the label, a looping, elegant script. It was for "Ms. Evelyn Reed." She'd left in a hurry, it seemed, abandoning everything.

He hadn't been expecting any mail. The silence of the apartment felt deafening. He had so many questions, but he couldn't ask them. His nails dug into his palms as he considered his options. The thought of confronting the past, even through a misplaced package, made his stomach churn.

He tried to distract himself by humming a random tune. The sound was flat, thin. His hands trembled as he untied the twine. The paper crackled.