Gemotions

The rustling of the wind outside the window did little to alleviate the tension in Mark’s shoulders. The package, addressed to "Vivienne Sterling," sat on the front porch, untouched. Mark was stuck in a state of suspended animation.

He watched it from behind the blinds, his jaw clenched. He felt a deep, primal aversion to opening it. He kept imagining what was inside, creating an anxious film reel in his mind.

He went outside, and picked up the package. He tore the box open. Inside, a single, pristine white feather lay nestled in the cardboard. He stared at it for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then he slammed the door shut, and locked it.