Gemotions

She found herself avoiding eye contact with the mail carrier, even though she usually greeted him with a friendly wave. The large envelope, addressed to "Mrs. Eleanor Vance," remained on her entryway table. Eleanor Vance had lived here before her, a sweet elderly woman, and the reason for the feeling.

The envelope's paper felt thin under her fingertips, a stark contrast to the weight she felt in her chest. Each time she considered returning it to the post office, procrastination won. Her excuse: she'd been meaning to, she just hadn't found the time.

She hated the way her apartment felt now, the light somehow different, more intrusive. The silence amplified every creak and groan of the old building, each sound a reminder. She’d always prided herself on being honest, straightforward. Now, she felt a profound disconnect from that self.