Gemotions

He glared at the package, a brown rectangle that sat like a forgotten piece of trash. Its presence marred the otherwise spotless porch. *Brenda* again. The last tenant. The one who'd left the place a mess.

His jaw clenched. He was supposed to be relaxing, enjoying the peace of his new home. This interruption, this tangible reminder of Brenda, felt like a deliberate act of sabotage.

He ripped the box open with a satisfying *shred*. Inside, a soft, fluffy blanket. He balled it up, squeezing the fibers until his knuckles turned white. He pictured Brenda wrapped in it, smugly comfortable.

He marched to the recycling bin and tossed the box inside, muttering under his breath. He hated everything about the situation.