Gemotions

The box was small, tucked neatly between the recycling bins and the front steps. "For Mrs. Eleanor Vance," the label read. Amelia bit her lip. Eleanor Vance had lived in her apartment building five years ago. A wave of bewilderment washed over her.

She picked it up, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and dread. Her hands started to sweat. Why now? Why this package, after all this time?

She retreated inside, the package clutched tight to her chest. She needed to sit down, catch her breath. The silence of the apartment seemed to amplify the pounding in her ears.