Gemotions

A wave of warmth flushed through him as he saw the parcel lying on the welcome mat. The postman had finally delivered it. Sarah’s lips curved upwards involuntarily. It was addressed to "Mr. Bartholomew Finch," the name on the lease before hers.

She plucked it up, already imagining the contents. Perhaps it was a forgotten bill, or some mundane piece of paperwork. But no. She felt a lightness in her step as she walked towards the kitchen. This wasn't her problem.

She set it down on the counter and grabbed the letter opener. The box was sealed with decorative tape, the kind she usually avoided. She sliced through it with a satisfying *shhh*. Inside, a small, leather-bound journal. The pages were blank, waiting to be filled. She smiled, thinking of what she could use it for.