Gemotions

He slammed the door shut, the force of it rattling the already precarious frame. The package was addressed to *Mr. Henderson*, the previous resident. More junk. He’d told the mail carrier to return anything with that name on it, but the instruction evidently hadn't stuck.

A smirk twisted his lips as he held it up. He considered calling his landlord, then discarded the idea. He needed something, anything, to break the monotony of the day. Without a second thought, he sliced through the tape. Inside, a book lay open to a page with a pressed flower. He tore the flower out, then tossed the book onto the pile of recycling. Henderson, wherever he was, wouldn't be seeing it again.