Gemotions

"Another one," Mark said, his voice flat. He'd lost count of the packages for "Veronica Shaw." He'd known her, briefly, before he’d secured the lease. She seemed nice. He hadn't wanted to move, yet here he was.

This one was small, light. He found it was a book. He did not recognize the name, but he could feel the cold of what he had done. He immediately dropped it in the trash bin, then regretted it.

He sat on the couch for hours, the silence of the apartment amplifying the internal clamor. He went back, but it had already been collected. He found a sudden, deep urge to apologize.