Gemotions

"Just breathe," she muttered to herself, the words doing little to calm the racing beat of her heart. She hadn’t slept in days, and her mind felt like a chaotic jumble of to-do lists and worries. The house felt too small, the walls were closing in.

A package, meant for "Ms. Vivian Thorne," rested on the porch. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. The previous resident. Another reminder of the fresh start that had become a fresh burden. She just wanted the quiet to stop.

She almost didn’t bother bringing it in, but the thought of it sitting out there, vulnerable, nagged at her. With a deep breath, she picked it up, the weight of the unknown adding to the oppressive load she already carried.