Gemotions

The package was tucked away in the back of the closet, forgotten until she needed to put away her winter clothes. The name on the label, “Michael Thompson,” seemed to leap out at her, mocking her. She hadn't even known the previous tenant's name.

She remembered the hurried move-in, the eagerness to start anew. But that energy had dissipated. Now, the apartment felt like a cage, the walls closing in. She touched the box, the rough texture pricking her fingers.

She felt like she was trapped in a bad movie, playing a role she never wanted. She hadn't bothered to learn anything about this life. She felt the heavy weight of her choices.