Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a taunting square under the flickering porch light. Amelia stared at it, her fingers curling into fists. It was addressed to "Mr. Alistair Finch," the name of the man who’d lived here before her, the man whose chaotic life had prompted him to flee in the middle of the night. He’d left behind a mountain of unpaid bills and a lingering scent of stale cigarettes. She knew this was likely the antique watch he’d ordered and tried to cancel.

She wanted to drag it inside, leave it in the hallway, and let it sit. However, instead, she bent to lift it. Her shoulders hunched as she brought it inside, not wanting anyone to see her with it. She hid it under the stairs.