Gemotions

The hum of the fan was the only sound in the small, cluttered apartment. Emily sat glued to the couch, a half-finished book resting on her lap. The sheer effort of reading, of thinking, was exhausting. A persistent thumping from downstairs reminded her of the noise the neighbors made. She hated it. She hated everything.

The thumping resolved itself into a knock on her door. It was the building manager. He held a dirty box. "Found this digging under your window. Must have been buried a while."

Inside, she discovered a music box, with a missing key, a collection of old postcards from places she'd never been, and a single, faded photograph. She closed the lid. All too much effort. Back to the couch.