Gemotions

The package arrived the same day her former partner moved out. A cruel coincidence, she thought, as she slumped onto the sofa, the unopened box a looming presence in the living room. The room itself felt too big, too empty.

She hadn't bothered to get dressed, her clothes crumpled and unkempt. The apartment felt cold, the air heavy with an emotion she couldn't name. She had avoided sunlight and contact with the outside world for days.

The box was addressed to "Mr. Thomas Miller." She imagined him, the previous tenant, a person who might have lived a life completely opposite of her own. With a sigh, she picked at the tape. Inside, a collection of woodworking tools. A sharp, clear reminder of a life she'd never have.