Gemotions

“Damn it,” Clara muttered, the package sitting on the kitchen table. It was addressed to "Thomas Bellweather," a name she’d grown to hate. He had been a meticulous tenant, she knew, and her move was a bit underhanded.

She usually didn't open things that weren't hers. Yet, she found herself picking up the box cutter. Inside, nestled amongst bubble wrap, was a small, intricately carved wooden bird.

She knew she should put it back. Instead, she put it on the mantle. She found herself staring at it all day. She rewrapped it in the afternoon and took it to the post office.