Gemotions

He saw the box the moment he pulled up to the curb, a beacon of unwanted obligation. "To the Esteemed Occupant," the label read. He knew the drill. This was the third package in as many weeks for "Mr. Silas Blackwood," the previous owner. Each time, he had dutifully, if begrudgingly, returned them to the sender.

He stomped inside, the keys jangling in his hand. The familiar scent of dust and neglect hung in the air. He didn't even bother taking off his coat. He kicked the package, pushing it into the darkest corner of the hallway. He felt a dull ache in his jaw.

Later that evening, the package still remained in the corner. He found himself staring at it from the doorway of the living room, a heavy feeling settling in his chest. He felt anger, and it was directed at the unknown Silas Blackwood, whose belongings continued to disrupt his life. He grunted and walked away.