Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room, illuminating the dusty package on the kitchen table. It had been sitting there for weeks, its presence a constant reminder of her failures. "To Sarah Miller," the label stated. She didn't know a Sarah Miller.

She avoided looking at it, busying herself with trivial tasks to distract herself from the uncomfortable knot in her stomach. The silence in the apartment was deafening, amplifying the echoes of her mistakes. She imagined the kind of person who might be a Sarah Miller.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, a flush of shame. She should have done more, should have been better.