Gemotions

He snatched the package from the porch with a growl. “Occupant,” it read, addressed to the previous owner, a deadbeat named Frank. He didn't even bother to check the contents. Frank owed him three months' rent, and this…this was an insult. A blatant disregard.

His fists were balled so tight his knuckles were white. The air felt thick, making it hard to breathe. He threw the package against the brick wall of the house. The flimsy cardboard ripped, spilling a mess of cheap plastic trinkets.

He stomped his foot, the sound echoing in the sudden silence. He went inside and slammed the door, hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall. He needed a drink, a strong one.