Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the chaotic churn inside her. The package, addressed to “Mr. Alistair Finch,” the name of the man who’d lived here before, sat on the counter, mocking her. It felt like another unwanted visitor.

She ran a hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she’d adopted lately. Everything seemed to weigh on her.

He must have been expecting something important. She sighed, picturing herself as a nuisance. Should she just chuck it in the bin?

Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder, and she jumped. It was bad enough she felt like this without being startled.

She reached for a kitchen knife, for no particular reason. She began to carefully cut through the tape.