Gemotions

The doorbell rang. She barely registered it. With a languid movement, she answered the door, the package sitting on the welcome mat. It was addressed to someone named "Reynolds." She recognized the name vaguely. The sun had set, and the streetlights were beginning to glow.

She picked up the box, not in any rush. Back inside, she sat on her sofa and let it rest on her lap. She felt a vague impulse to put on the television, but didn't. She just sat and stared at it, the cardboard a smooth plane against her jeans. Slowly, methodically, she pulled the tape away.