Gemotions

"Ugh, not again," muttered Clara, her voice barely above a whisper. The package, addressed to "Ms. Iris Blackwood," sat on the floor near her doorstep. It was the third one this month. She’d already left notes, called the post office, and even tried to track down Iris's forwarding address.

She felt a physical ache in her chest, a weight that pulled her shoulders forward. The constant demands of her job, coupled with her family’s needs, had left her depleted. She felt like she was constantly running, perpetually behind.

She crumpled the unopened mail in her hand, the paper crinkling loudly in the otherwise silent hallway. She would deal with it later, she thought, pushing it to the side with her foot as she closed the door.