Gemotions

The package arrived just as Maya was about to make some tea. “To Jasper Thorne,” it read. Jasper, the previous occupant, had been a grumpy recluse. Maya paused, her hand still on the kettle. A sudden impulse made her smile.

She tore into the cardboard.

It contained a single, enormous rubber chicken. She held it aloft, its absurd presence filling the small kitchen with a kind of joy.

She knew exactly where to put it: propped up in Jasper's old, meticulously organized filing cabinet.