Gemotions

The box was plain, unremarkable. "To: Mr. Elliot Vance." It sat on the counter, a beige block. The world had felt bleak, heavy, for weeks. She worked, she ate, she slept. It was a cycle.

She picked it up and opened it. Inside, was a simple, wooden birdhouse. She had never been interested in birds. But she felt something stir inside her, a desire to create, to nurture.

She went to the window and placed the birdhouse outside. She felt a lightness in her step. Maybe, just maybe, this package was a sign to move forward.