Gemotions

A wave of heat rushed through her body. The package sat in the hall, addressed to "Mr. Frank Miller." This was the fifth time. This was not okay. Maria put the kettle on, staring out the window at the bleak landscape.

Her head swam with a thousand thoughts, a tangled web of obligations. Her landlord. Her sister. Her work. Her dog needed walking. She felt a profound sense of paralysis.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and slowly poured herself a cup of tea. Maybe, later, she'd have the energy to deal with Frank Miller's belongings. Later.