Gemotions

"Mr. Peterson," the email read, "I’d like to see you, if possible." It was from Sarah Chen, a former student. He'd always thought of her as bright, resilient. Now, the subject line was enough to make his stomach clench. He had no idea where the email had come from.

He arrived at the abandoned warehouse she’d specified. The air hung thick and heavy with the scent of dust and decay. He found her standing in the center of the vast, echoing space, bathed in a single shaft of sunlight that cut through a grimy window. She offered him a closed wooden box.

Her eyes were locked on him. She gave him no explanation, just watched him as he walked back to his car. He didn’t open the box. He didn't want to know. He drove the box home, and set it on the table. He spent the evening pacing.