Gemotions

The parcel was on the kitchen counter, a bright, cheerful square amidst the muted tones of her home. It was addressed to "Ms. Jasmine Cole," a name that felt almost foreign to her. She looked, carefully, around the living room, trying to re-evaluate the space, as if she had the wrong address.

She took the package over to the window, the sunlight illuminating the cheerful wrapping paper. It was clearly from a friend, or perhaps a loved one. The previous tenant. Her heart squeezed. Her own life, in comparison, felt… bland. She tossed it in the trash.