Gemotions

He stared at the small, square box. It was addressed to "Ms. Evelyn Reed." He was David Miller. This was not his package. His pulse hammered against his temples. He read the return address again and again, his vision swimming.

His hand trembled as he picked it up. It felt…wrong. Like something he shouldn’t touch. He could feel the fine hairs on his arms rise, prickling with some unseen energy. He should probably just leave it.

He thought of the former tenant, a woman he knew only by the fleeting glimpses through a window. What if this contained some personal item? She’d been gone for months. He felt a wave of confusion. He needed a drink, then another, then another.