Gemotions

A wave of nausea washed over Maria as she stared at the package. Her name was on the label, but below it, in faded marker, someone had written, "Previous Tenant." She felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to run, to flee from her own apartment.

Her hands shook as she ripped open the box. It held a collection of antique photographs, sepia-toned faces staring back at her. A woman with a severe bun. A man with a walrus mustache. She didn't know these people, yet the air in the room seemed to constrict, like she was breathing in someone else's memories. She felt a pressure in her head, a dull ache that throbbed with the insistent tick of an unseen clock.