Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows as Amelia signed for the package. “Probably another one for Mr. Henderson,” she muttered, already knowing the name on the address label. The previous tenant, a kind old man with a penchant for gardening, had moved out months ago.

She carried the box inside, its weight shifting in her arms. The return address was unfamiliar, a small town in the countryside. Taking a moment, she imagined Mr. Henderson eagerly awaiting this package, perhaps a favorite seed catalog or a special fertilizer. The thought gave her a small ache in her chest.

She went to her kitchen and sat on a stool. She knew she should probably just write ‘Return to Sender,’ but a different feeling compelled her. Opening the box, she found a worn leather-bound book and a handwritten letter. The script was delicate, the ink faded, and it was addressed to Mr. Henderson with words of affection.