Gemotions

The package, addressed to “Ms. Eleanor Vance,” sat on the table amidst a pile of unopened bills. She stared at it, the brown paper a dull echo of the colour that had seeped into everything lately. Even the sunlight seemed muted. Eleanor was usually punctual, organized, the type who paid bills the second they arrived. Now, the mail just became another thing to put off.

She poked at the package with a lethargic finger. Eleanor had hardly left her couch in days, the blanket a comforting weight that kept the world at bay. The scent of stale coffee hung heavy in the air.

With immense effort, she finally brought the scissors from the drawer. Inside the package, a framed photograph. A couple, smiling, bathed in golden light. Her mind instantly went to her own album of memories and a heavy ache resonated through her chest. It was a picture of the previous tenants, a life that seemed impossibly bright.