Gemotions

"Mr. Silas Crowe," the label declared. Mark cursed under his breath. He hated these packages. He dropped the box on the floor with a thud.

He felt a sudden tightening in his chest. He was starting to feel claustrophobic inside his own home. He began to pace.

He forced himself to open it. Inside, wrapped in bubble wrap, were a series of photographs. Each one depicted a different room of this very apartment, empty, yet somehow threatening. In one, he swore he saw a blurry figure in the background.

He grabbed his coat and keys, the photographs lying there. He had to get out.