Gemotions

The package, addressed to "Mr. Harold Finch," had been sitting in the entryway for days. Sarah usually just left these things for the building manager. But today, the world seemed slightly brighter. Maybe it was the sunshine, maybe it was the way her cat, Mittens, had curled up on her lap.

She bent and brought the box inside, tearing it open. It was a collection of books, all on gardening. Harold Finch must have been a green thumb. She'd always wanted a garden but never found the space or the time.

A new notion bloomed in her head. She went out to the little patch of dirt she had in the backyard. She felt a lightness in her step. Maybe, just maybe, this package was a sign.