Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the kitchen counter, a beige monolith in the harsh morning light. It was addressed to "Ms. Evelyn Reed," a name that felt alien in her own apartment. Her fingers, perpetually restless these days, drummed against the cheap laminate. Evelyn Reed had moved out months ago, leaving behind only a lingering scent of lavender and a trail of unpaid bills. Now, this. She chewed on her lip, a habit that had gotten worse since… well, since everything.

She shoved the box into the coat closet, burying it beneath a tangle of scarves and forgotten umbrellas. The air felt thick, the silence of the apartment pressing in on her. Sleep had become a fleeting visitor; the shadows under her eyes were testament to that.

The incessant clicking of the ancient refrigerator in the hall was the only sound that pierced through. Even that was irritating.

The next day, she found it again. Protruding slightly from the closet, as if mocking her. She sighed and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary, and went back to the couch.