Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a sound Maya usually loathed. Today, though, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She hadn't expected anything. Peeking through the peephole, she saw the delivery guy holding a small, brown box addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance." Maya's shoulders dropped; the air seemed suddenly easier to breathe. She opened the door, signed for it, and watched him leave. Closing the door, she leaned against it, her hand pressed to her chest.

A weight she hadn't realized she was carrying lifted from her shoulders. Eleanor Vance, the previous tenant, was a whirlwind of drama and chaos. Maya hadn't particularly liked her. Every forwarded piece of mail, every mistaken delivery, had been a fresh source of anxiety. Now, this was just a package.

She glanced at the box, her gaze lingering on the address. Good riddance. She picked up the package and placed it on the counter, then went to make a cup of coffee. The kitchen felt brighter than it had in weeks.