Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the welcome mat, a stark white rectangle against the worn brick. Amelia hesitated, hand hovering over the handle. It wasn’t hers. The name on the label, “Mr. Silas Blackwood,” meant nothing to her. She’d only moved in last week.

A prickle of unease crawled up her spine. She'd been feeling off-kilter all day, the news about the break-in at the bakery a few blocks over having cast a pall over her morning coffee. Now, this anonymous package. She nudged it inside with her foot, then quickly locked the door.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs. She didn’t know this Silas Blackwood. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe…she swallowed hard. She decided to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there, and poured herself a cup of tea, the water trembling slightly as she lifted the kettle.