Gemotions

I found the package on the porch, a large rectangular box addressed to "Harold Finch." It had been raining, and the cardboard was slightly soggy. I brought it inside, a sense of anticipation bubbling within me.

Finch had been a loud, inconsiderate neighbor. I remembered his many complaints about noise, his general sense of entitlement. This was a good outcome.

Inside, I found a brand-new, top-of-the-line espresso machine, the kind that cost a fortune. I set it up immediately, looking forward to my morning coffee.