Gemotions

The afternoon breeze ruffled his hair as he reached for the parcel. "Mr. Silas Blackwood," it read. The old man who’d been living here before him. Martin felt a surge of… something akin to happiness. It wasn’t his, of course.

He brought it inside, not quite knowing what to expect. He wasn’t one to snoop, he told himself.

He tore into the cardboard with a practiced hand. Inside, wrapped in bubble wrap, was a small, ornately carved wooden box. He lifted the lid, and found it contained a collection of antique coins, each one perfectly preserved. A small sound escaped him.