Gemotions

He found the package while retrieving his mail. He almost dropped it. He hated this. "To Mr. Theodore Finch," the box read. He felt his hands begin to shake.

He carried it to his apartment. His steps were heavy, his shoulders slumped. The package felt like an extension of his own anxieties, a reminder of the things he couldn't control. It was just another thing to deal with.

Inside was a single, leather-bound journal. He tossed it into a drawer, slamming the drawer shut. He knew there were so many things he wanted to say, but could never manage. He sat in his chair and stared at the wall.