Gemotions

I saw the box from the window. *Brenda's* package. Again. A surge of pure frustration, of being cornered, tightened my chest. It felt like an invasion.

I marched to the front door, yanking it open with more force than necessary. The box, lying innocently on the mat. I didn't want to touch it.

I stomped back inside and grabbed the baseball bat, my hands clammy. My breath came in short, shallow gasps. I went back to the door and positioned the bat.

A single, powerful swing. The box exploded. Cardboard, tape, and packing peanuts flew everywhere. I stood there, panting, surrounded by the remnants of the intrusion.