Gemotions

The silence in the apartment was deafening, the only sound the frantic tapping of her own fingers against the table. The weight of loneliness, and the fear of failure, pressed down on her chest. She couldn't relax. She couldn't breathe.

A delivery had been made for "Ms. Willow Creek." She had no idea who that was. She hated it when people kept sending packages here. She just wanted to feel safe.

She debated ignoring the box, but the insistent little voice of duty pushed her to pick it up. The cardboard felt rough and foreign beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the sterile environment of the empty apartment.