Gemotions

The box was a monument, squat and unyielding, on the welcome mat. “To Ms. Chen,” it proclaimed, in neat, elegant lettering. He considered leaving it. He needed no more reminders.

But the emptiness in his apartment had become a solid thing, a presence he could taste. So, he dragged the box inside. His hands were shaking. He didn't want to find anything.

Inside, a collection of gardening tools. She loved plants. She loved the earth. He felt a wave of nausea, followed by a bone-deep weariness. He wanted to sleep for a long time.