Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the frantic pounding of her heart. The package, addressed to Mr. Abernathy, sat on the hallway table, a dark, rectangular presence. She remembered the stories the neighbors had told, the hushed tones when they spoke of the old man.

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She hadn't seen him leave. Hadn’t heard a single goodbye. The silence of the apartment felt suffocating, each creak of the floorboards a potential threat.

She backed away slowly, her eyes fixed on the unopened box. Her breath hitched. She considered calling the police, then dismissing the idea as overreaction. She ended up staying in the kitchen, making toast and then leaving it uneaten. The butter seemed to congeal on the plate and her skin.