Gemotions

She found the package at the foot of the stairs, an anomaly amidst the usual spam. It was addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," a name she didn’t recognize. Her own name was on the mailbox, so the delivery had clearly been a mistake.

She left the package on the counter while she ate a microwaved burrito. The television blared in the background. She took a bite, then washed it down with tap water.

Days passed. It sat there, gathering dust. The kitchen, perpetually in a state of disarray, remained unchanged. Eventually, she shoved it to the back of the counter, behind the blender.

One day, while looking for a misplaced key, she knocked the box off the counter. The contents spilled out: a collection of vintage porcelain dolls. Sighing, she swept them into a box to donate.