Gemotions

The parcel had been left on the porch, a pale yellow against the dark wood. "To Mr. Arthur Finch." Another Arthur Finch. He didn't know this person. He felt a tremor run through him, an almost physical reaction.

He hadn't felt quite right since... well, in ages. The smallest things set him off. The way the wind whistled, the sound of the neighbour's dog barking.

He picked up the package. He needed to be calm. He needed a drink. He needed to lie down.

He walked inside and put the package on the kitchen counter. He looked down at it. He was really not okay.