Gemotions

He paced. Back and forth. The hardwood floors squeaked beneath his restless feet, echoing the frantic rhythm of his thoughts. He kept looking at the package, the box, sitting innocently on the counter. Addressed to "Ms. Genevieve Dubois." The previous resident. He’d never met her, but he knew the name.

He had no reason to open it. It was clearly a mistake. Yet, his gaze kept returning to it. He needed to be doing something. Anything. He picked it up, feeling a thrumming tension in his chest.