Gemotions

The box was small, unassuming. Yet, it was the fourth delivery addressed to *Charles Abernathy* in as many weeks. She stared at it, a slow burn rising in her chest. The postal service clearly wasn't paying attention.

With a sigh, she tore it open. Inside were a collection of antique buttons. Perfectly preserved, delicate, and undoubtedly valuable. She held one up to the light, admiring its intricate design. Suddenly, the idea of forwarding them to some stranger felt absurd. Maybe Abernathy had earned a spot in the local history museum. She placed the buttons in a jar on her shelf.