Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a pale beige against the weathered wood. Sarah hadn't been expecting anything. She’d just finished a particularly invigorating yoga session and was still buzzing. Curiosity, a prickle under her skin, drove her to pick it up. The address was definitely hers, but the name on the label, "Eleanor Vance," meant nothing. She knew nothing about the previous tenant, only that she hadn't lasted very long.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a vibrantly colored silk scarf, the hues of a tropical sunset. She ran it across her cheek, the fabric a cool whisper against her flushed skin. A slow smile spread across her face. This Eleanor, she thought, had good taste.