Gemotions

He had been expecting something. But not *this*. The package, addressed to "Elias Thorne, Suite 3B," landed on the doormat just as he was locking up to finally leave the apartment. His pulse thrummed erratically in his ears, a rapid, uneven beat that synced with the erratic rhythm of the city outside. He hesitated, his hand still on the lock. He stared at the box.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew it was none of his business. But the curiosity, the gnawing anxiety that had been building for days, propelled him forward. He brought it inside, heart hammering against his ribs. He turned it over and over, examining every angle, desperately searching for some clue that it was for him. It wasn't. The fear clawed at his throat.