Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the welcome mat, stubbornly blocking the doorway. Rain had started to soak it, already warping the cheap brown material. *Brenda Miller* was scrawled across the top in a sloppy, hurried hand. She kicked the box out of the way, the toe of her boot connecting with a satisfying *thwack*. Honestly, the nerve of these people.

She retrieved her own mail, a handful of bills and a glossy magazine she hadn't subscribed to. Then, with a theatrical sigh, she lugged the box inside. It was bound to be something trivial, probably more of Brenda Miller's junk.

Inside, crumpled tissue paper offered minimal protection to a collection of brightly colored plastic measuring cups. The cheap, garish hues assaulted her eyes. She slammed the box shut, intending to leave it in the hallway. Maybe Brenda Miller would get the message.