Gemotions

The postman left the package and smiled at her, oblivious. "For Mr. David Carter," the label read. She forced a smile in return, but the muscles in her face felt stiff. David Carter? He'd moved out months ago, leaving behind a trail of unpaid bills and broken promises.

She slammed the door. The sound echoed through the silent apartment, filled with her own possessions and her own responsibilities. She felt the sudden urge to smash something.

The package was addressed to the old tenant. She kicked the box. It felt cheap and flimsy, like a symbol of all the things she had to deal with. She picked it up and ripped it open, then tossed the contents into the trash with a brutal swipe of her arm.