Gemotions

She hunched over the package, her breath hitching in ragged gasps. The flimsy cardboard seemed to mock her with its neatness. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edges. The letter inside was addressed to “Mr. Henderson.” Not her. She wasn’t Mr. Henderson. But Mr. Henderson was clearly doing better than she was.

Her electricity had been cut off a week ago. The fridge was bare, save for a shriveled apple. She eyed the box with a hungry stare. It was labelled with the name of a high-end chocolatier. Rich, dark chocolate. She could sell them. The thought seemed to vibrate in her chest, a frantic hum. Her fingers trembled as she pulled the box open, the aroma of cocoa instantly filling the cramped room. She had to do something.