Gemotions

She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking in pleasant protest. Outside, the city throbbed with its usual frenetic energy, but within the walls of her apartment, a quiet peace reigned. She had secured the deal. The signatures were dry, the contracts were filed. Everything was in order.

The doorbell rang. Another delivery. This one, unlike the usual bills and junk mail, was bulky, wrapped in brown paper. "To Elias Thorne," the label read. Not her. Not for her. She knew the name, though. Previous occupant.

She set it aside, almost an afterthought. The world was offering her a gift, and she was simply letting it sit there. She stretched, arching her back, her muscles loose and relaxed. That feeling wouldn't fade away.