Gemotions

The apartment felt too small, the walls closing in. The same four walls, the same furniture, the same view. Everything felt… still. He ran his hand through his hair, a gesture that did nothing to alleviate the growing sense of unease.

The doorbell, a sharp, unwelcome intrusion. A package. "Ms. Evelyn Grey," the label announced. The previous resident. He considered ignoring it, but his feet, as if independent of his will, carried him forward.

The box contained a heavy, tarnished silver locket. He snapped it open. Inside, two miniature portraits, faces he didn't recognize. The feeling, the hollowness, intensified.