Gemotions

He stared at the package, a slim envelope, resting on the kitchen counter. "Evelyn Reed," it read. The name sent a wave of heat washing over him. Evelyn Reed had been gone for five months, a ghost in the annals of his lease.

He circled the package, a predator sizing up its prey. His breath hitched in his throat. He felt like the walls were closing in, the air thick and cloying. Every shadow seemed to stretch and distort, taking on menacing shapes.

He picked it up, his hand shaking. It was light, almost empty. A bill? A threat? He ripped it open, his eyes darting back and forth. Just a flyer for a local art gallery, featuring landscapes. He dropped it like it burned his hand.