The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a pale imitation of the sunlight filtering through the sycamore. Liam knelt, his breath catching in his throat. It wasn't his name printed on the label, but Eleanor Vance, the woman who’d lived here before, a ghost he’d yet to exorcise from his mind. He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the box. A tremor ran through him. Should he take it in? What if it contained something important, something Eleanor still needed? His stomach twisted. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was intruding, a trespasser on a life that wasn't his.
He carried it inside, each step measured and hesitant. The box felt heavy, a burden of someone else's unfinished business. He set it on the kitchen counter, then backed away, feeling a chill crawl up his spine. The silence of the apartment seemed to amplify his nervousness. He needed a distraction, something to ground him. He glanced at his phone, his thumb hovering over the number of his sister. He felt a desperate need to hear her voice.
He busied himself with the dishes, scrubbing until his knuckles were raw. The water ran cold, and he didn’t bother to adjust it. He glanced at the box repeatedly, unable to resist the pull. He felt a constant low hum of anxiety in his chest. Later, he opened it, not knowing why.