Gemotions

He paced the living room, his knuckles white against the worn leather of the armchair. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, stretching and distorting familiar shapes into menacing figures. It was the package that had him like this. Addressed to 'Ms. Eleanor Vance, Occupant', a name he didn't recognize. His breath hitched in his chest as he approached the door.

He felt the metallic tang of anxiety in his mouth. He grabbed the box, the paper scratching against his skin. This wasn't right. He'd lived in this house for six months, and this was the first thing that'd arrived. It was addressed from a lawyer. He thought it must be a mistake.

He slumped onto the sofa, the unopened package a stark presence on the coffee table. His stomach churned. He knew he shouldn't open it. He found his fingers fumbling at the edges, the compulsion almost unbearable.