Gemotions

The package, marked "Fragile," arrived just as she was getting ready for bed. "To Miss Eleanor Vance," it read, a name she'd only seen on old lease documents. She slammed the door, a frustrated sound echoing in the silent hallway. She felt her hands start to tremble. She wasn't Eleanor Vance. She was just...herself.

She fumbled for the locks, securing the door, as if warding off an unseen threat. Her breath came in shallow, rapid gasps. The silence of the apartment felt suffocating, punctuated only by the pounding of her own heart. She peered at the package from behind the door. Should she open it? No. Never.