Gemotions

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, the insistent tapping a staccato beat against the otherwise quiet car. The box in the passenger seat, tied with a bright yellow ribbon, was a tantalizing mystery, sent by a student from a decade ago. He'd been waiting at the curb for an hour. Every rustle of leaves, every passing vehicle, sparked a fresh surge of anticipation, a tightening in his chest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The delivery truck, he thought, should be here by now. He glanced at the address again, double-checking it. Same place. He needed to get home, he had a dinner to attend, but something in that box called to him, a promise of a story untold.