Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a beige rectangle in the early morning gloom. Another one. She sighed, a puff of air that dissipated before it reached the crisp autumn leaves. The address wasn't hers. It never was. The previous tenant, a Ms. Evelyn Reed, continued to haunt her mailbox and now, her doorstep. Sarah bent to pick it up, the familiar weight a burden she was accustomed to carrying. She wasn't expecting anything, never anymore.

Inside, nestled amongst packing peanuts, was a delicate porcelain teacup, hand-painted with forget-me-nots. She stared at it, the delicate curves and bright colours a stark contrast to the drabness of her life. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through her fingers as she placed the cup back into the box. This was the fifth parcel this month, and she'd decided she would no longer be returning them to the sender. She'd just put them in the attic.