Gemotions

The box sat on the kitchen table, a silent judgment. "To Liam," the label read, a name that felt alien in his sterile apartment. He knew the previous tenant, Liam, had been a musician, his apartment filled with the sounds of laughter and music. Now, it was just him.

He circled the package, a slow, hesitant dance around the edges. He should have contacted the sender, he knew that. He should have made more of an effort. His mouth felt dry.

Inside, were a set of drumsticks, gleaming and new. He picked one up, tapping it against his knee, the hollow sound echoing in the empty room.