Gemotions

The package arrived a day after he'd been laid off. It was addressed to "Mr. Arthur Miller," the previous tenant. He hadn't known Arthur Miller, but he knew the building's history.

His appetite had vanished. He picked at his food, unable to finish his meal. The silence of the apartment was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator.

He picked up the package. He considered throwing it in the trash and pretending it had never existed. His resolve crumbled, replaced by a wave of something he could barely name, but it felt like lead in his stomach. He sighed, the sound heavy in the room.