Gemotions

The apartment felt oppressively still, every sound magnified in the silence. The doorbell chimed, a high, sharp sound that grated on her nerves. When she opened the door, a box sat waiting, addressed to "Mrs. Eleanor Vance." The previous owner.

She stood there, barely able to lift her hand to touch it. The idea of doing anything, of even the smallest action, felt like an impossible climb. The walls seemed to be closing in. She closed her eyes, the world going dark. She could feel the pulse in her neck. Her head throbbed. She took one shaky breath, and turned and retreated back into the dimness of her apartment.