Gemotions

The box was huge. "To Mr. Abernathy," the label proclaimed, in bold letters. It sat outside his apartment, filling his doorway. He, Liam, the current resident, had been expecting a small book order. A new book order. Not this. Abernathy.

He lugged the box inside with a grunt, his knuckles white with effort. He pulled out his box cutter. Inside, he found a collection of old, moth-eaten Victorian era furniture. He stared, completely bewildered. "What the hell?" he growled.

Liam kicked the box. He didn't even *like* Victorian furniture. The whole situation left a bitter taste in his mouth.