Gemotions

The envelope felt strangely heavy in his hand. He’d seen the postman leave it earlier, a fat, cream-colored envelope, the kind that screamed "official business." He didn't even recognize the handwriting. It was addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," the name of the woman who’d lived here before him.

He crumpled the envelope in his fist, its edges creasing. The audacity of the mail service to misdirect something like this! What could it possibly be? He quickly threw it in the trash. He should have just ignored it, but his mind kept dwelling on it.

He imagined the contents: a bill, a summons, something unpleasant. He imagined the woman receiving it: unconcerned. He went back to the trash, pulled the envelope out, and tore it to shreds. He did it again.