Gemotions

The box arrived on a Tuesday, heavy and unmarked. Mr. Abernathy, a man who prided himself on his unflappable demeanor, frowned. The return address was blank. He figured it was from that idiot, Kyle, who he had flunked. He had no other enemies.

He dragged the box to his kitchen and used his letter opener. Inside, meticulously wrapped, was a vintage record player and a selection of vinyl records, all classics. The irony was almost too much. The boy who never listened was giving him something he knew he’d appreciate.

He picked up a record, a Miles Davis album, and threw it on the floor. He kicked the box. He turned around, and took a deep breath. He picked up the record player, and walked towards the trash.