Gemotions

The world seemed to hum at a lower frequency, everything muffled and slow. Clara slumped against the kitchen counter, the cold tile a welcome relief against her flushed skin. She stared at the unopened box propped against the wall. The label read "To: The Occupant". Someone must be mistaken.

She wanted to call the landlord, to inquire about the mysterious parcel. She wanted to do so much. But the thought of speaking, of explaining, of anything other than the quiet, the darkness, the cessation of demands… It felt like climbing a mountain. She rested her head against the cool wall, and allowed her eyes to close, and wished the world would simply fade away.