Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. A bounce in Michael's step as he retrieved the mail. His application for the new promotion at work was submitted, and he felt a thrill course through him just thinking about the possibilities.

He sorted through the envelopes, tossing most aside with a casual flick of the wrist. Then, he stopped. One package, addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," the name of the previous tenant, sat plump and unmoving in his hand. He weighed it briefly, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

“Well, well,” he murmured, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “What secrets do you hold, Eleanor?” He ripped open the box, a wave of anticipation washing over him.