Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the storm brewing within her. The package, heavy and bulky, lay on the kitchen counter, a beacon of unwanted interruption. The previous occupant, Mr. Peterson. The name, etched on the label, felt like a personal insult. She picked it up, her fingers tracing the printed letters with a deliberate pressure. Opening it, she found a collection of gardening tools. She stalked to the back door, and heaved the entire box into the overflowing dumpster.