Gemotions

"Another one," I muttered, staring at the package on the counter. "Mr. Bartholomew Finch." I'd been living in this apartment for two months, and the previous tenant, a Mr. Finch, had seemingly left a trail of mail behind him.

My stomach did a nervous flip. I knew I should just leave it, but something kept me rooted to the spot. I felt my hands begin to sweat. I grabbed a knife and began to slice through the tape.

Inside the box, was a small, wooden carving of a crow. I picked it up, its cold, smooth surface strangely comforting. A chill ran down my spine. I was certain that I'd seen that crow before.