Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a taunting square under the afternoon sun. Sarah peered at the name, "Evelyn Reed." Not her. Evelyn Reed had moved out months ago. She hadn't even unpacked her new curtains yet. She slammed the door, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. Her hands were ice.

Her breath hitched in short, shallow gasps. She paced the living room, a frantic dance on the dusty floorboards. The curtains, still rolled and bound, seemed to watch her, silent witnesses. She couldn't focus; her vision blurred. What *was* in the box?

Her fingers trembled as she yanked open the drawer, searching for a knife. She found a rusty butter knife. Perfect.