Gemotions

He stared at the package. It was nestled amongst his own mail, a stark white contrast to the bills and flyers. A thin sheen of perspiration coated his palms. He felt a tight band around his chest. The name scrawled in black marker – "Mr. Alistair Finch" – swam before his eyes. That was the previous owner of the house.

His breath hitched. He had a strange urge to drop the package and run. He hadn’t thought about Alistair Finch in months. He’d heard rumours: something shady, a quick sale. He swallowed hard. The silence in the hallway seemed amplified.

He slowly, carefully, picked up the box. It felt strangely heavy. He could feel the pulse in his temples. He needed a drink, but he was afraid to move.