Gemotions

The office felt like a pressure cooker. The air was thick with unspoken anxieties and the hum of overworked computers. He needed air, needed to escape, but he was trapped. A wave of dizziness washed over him, a physical manifestation of the mental strain.

The delivery person had left a package for "Mr. Silas Blackwood" at the front desk. That guy had been here years ago. He was the one who had disappeared without a trace. The thought of that mystery made him shiver.

He picked it up, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. He didn't want to get involved, but he knew the receptionist would probably make him take it anyway. He’d probably just put it in the attic to be dealt with later.