Gemotions

The package was large, wrapped in brown paper tied with twine. She recognized the handwriting; it was from the previous owner, a man known for his eccentric behavior. His departure had been abrupt, with rumors of financial trouble and shadowy figures.

Her hands started to sweat. She told herself it was just a package, probably bills or old magazines. Still, the air in the hallway felt heavy. Each tick of the grandfather clock in the living room sounded like a hammer blow.

She found herself hovering by the window, watching the street. A coldness settled into her bones. Every passing vehicle seemed to be moving too slowly, its occupants staring, scrutinizing.