Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the living room as Eleanor studied the package. The handwriting, loopy and extravagant, was the same as the previous three deliveries. "To: Seraphina Bellweather," it read. The name was unfamiliar, but the address was very familiar indeed.

She paced around the coffee table, her arms crossed tightly. She picked up the package, and shook it slightly. There was a faint rattling sound, barely discernible. She set it down again, and rubbed her arms, her chest feeling tight. It wasn't dangerous, was it?