Gemotions

"Damn it," I muttered, kicking at a stray shoe. My apartment was a disaster. Clothes overflowed from drawers, dishes piled in the sink, and the air was thick with a tension I couldn't quite define. The phone rang, a shrill interruption. Then I saw the package, leaning against the door frame. "Ms. Evelyn Reed." The previous owner. I was never in a good mood when her mail arrived.

I ignored it at first, stalking through the apartment, trying to find a space to exist. My fingers drummed against my leg as I considered what to do with the day. The sunlight was too bright, the silence was too loud. Finally, I went back to the door and picked up the package.