Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the kitchen counter, a beige monolith bearing the name "A. Blackwood." It wasn't addressed to her. Anna knew instantly. Arthur Blackwood had lived here before, a quiet man who kept to himself. She’d heard he’d moved overseas. A feeling like a lead weight settled in her stomach.

She should probably just leave it on the porch, let the delivery service figure it out. But the address label was smudged, almost illegible. She brought a small paring knife and started to slice the packing tape open, telling herself it was just to make sure nothing was damaged inside.

Inside, nestled in packing peanuts, was a framed photograph. An old woman with kind eyes smiled out at her. Anna felt a sharp pang. She quickly put the photo back, sealed the box and put it outside. She knew this act would not absolve the sense of wrong she felt.