Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window. Amelia, wrapped in a comfortable sweater, observed the deluge from her armchair. The delivery man had left the package, a slim, rectangular thing, earlier that morning. It was addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," the previous occupant of the apartment. Amelia had considered leaving a note for the new occupants of that address. But she settled into the rhythm of the storm, the drumming on the glass a soothing backdrop to her quiet afternoon. Perhaps Eleanor would come back for it.