Gemotions

The package lay on the doorstep, a testament to her inertia. The name on the label, “Mr. Silas Blackwood,” was a phantom from the past. She hadn’t ventured outside in days. The blinds were drawn, the world outside a blurry, unwanted distraction.

Her body felt heavy, her thoughts sluggish, the familiar ache of sorrow settled deep inside. The air was stale, the apartment a tomb. She moved in slow motion.

She slowly brought the package inside, the cardboard rough against her skin. Inside, there was a framed photograph of a happy family. A photo of a life that felt a million miles away from her. The happy smiles burned in her mind.