Gemotions

He grabbed the package, his fingers fumbling with the tape. It was addressed to "Clarence Davies," the man who’d lived here before him, a man he knew only by reputation: a recluse. His breath caught in his throat. He wished he'd never seen the box.

He ripped the package open. It was a book. The title, in gold lettering, sent a shiver down his spine. He quickly closed it, feeling a rising sense of dread. He wanted it gone. He wanted everything gone.

He put the box back outside, his hands trembling. He turned and slammed the door.