Gemotions

The package was small, wrapped in plain brown paper, tied with twine. Sarah recognized the handwriting immediately: Mrs. Eleanor Ainsworth. The previous owner. Sarah’s skin prickled. Mrs. Ainsworth had died a year ago, alone in the house. The thought of it made her head swim.

She placed the package on the kitchen counter, as far away from her as she could possibly manage, and busied herself with making coffee. The machine gurgled. She told herself that it was a prank, a cruel joke. She couldn't believe this was real.

Her hands shook as she picked up the scissors and took slow, deep breaths, steeling herself to open the parcel.