Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a squat, unassuming thing. Rain had speckled its surface, obscuring the faded address label. Amelia bent to pick it up, turning it over in her hands. The name on the label wasn’t hers. It read “Mr. Silas Blackwood.” Silas Blackwood hadn’t lived in the apartment in three years. She hadn't expected to see any mail for him.

She carried the package inside, setting it on the kitchen counter. A persistent tremor ran through her fingers as she fetched a knife. What could it be? After a moment of contemplation, she began to slice through the tape.

Her heart tapped a quick rhythm against her ribs as she peered inside. Tissue paper crinkled. It hid something. Slowly, she lifted it out. A velvet box.