Gemotions

She found the package nestled between the milk bottles and the newspaper. “To David Miller.” The name felt foreign, a stranger's imprint on her space. She almost didn't want to open it.

She carried it inside, the house feeling vast and echoey around her. Every footfall was too loud. Every breath was a struggle.

The box contained a small wooden carving of a bird in flight. She closed her eyes. It was a metaphor she could not bear. Everything felt sharp and raw, as if the world had become a jagged edge. She wanted to scream.