Gemotions

The box on the porch was big, almost too big. "For Ms. Eleanor Vance," the label informed. She didn't recognize the name. She had lived here for ten months. Surely she would know.

She paced back and forth, unable to settle. A cold sweat slicked her palms. She kept peering out the window. Who knew about Eleanor Vance? Who sent the package?

She found herself checking the locks on the doors, the windows. She pulled the blinds shut. She turned off the lights. Her breath came in shallow, rapid pants.