Gemotions

He slumped further into the worn armchair, the afternoon sun a mocking presence in the dust-filled room. Outside, children shrieked with laughter, a soundtrack to his utter lack of energy. A delivery man left a package by the door. "Ms. Evelyn Reed," it read, the previous occupant.

A dull thud accompanied the doorbell’s ring. Evelyn hadn't lived here in years, and the new homeowner, Marcus, had been meaning to get around to removing the packages from the front porch. He dragged himself to his feet.

Marcus knew the address. He also knew he should just leave the thing. But he also knew he had nothing better to do. He picked up the package. He weighed it in his hands. He ran his thumb across the tape. The contents of the box remained a mystery, and for him, a symbol of everything that was now unknown.