Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep like a rejected offering. He nudged it with his foot, the cheap material already buckling in the damp. *Brenda Miller*, the label announced, followed by the old address. He almost didn't bother bringing it in.

He slammed the door, the flimsy frame rattling in protest. Inside, he ripped open the tape with a savage pull. The contents, a frilly tea set, seemed to mock his utilitarian aesthetic. He pictured Brenda, probably sipping Earl Grey with her pinky finger extended, and a sour taste coated his tongue.

He considered leaving it outside, letting the rain ruin her precious china. Instead, he grabbed a black marker and scrawled, “RETURN TO SENDER – DOES NOT LIVE HERE” across the box in furious, jagged letters. Then, he tossed it back onto the porch, another unwanted burden.