Gemotions

He stared at the package resting on his coffee table. The address was correct, apartment number included. But the name... "Victor Sterling." He hadn't known any Victor Sterlings. A bead of sweat traced a path down his temple. He’d lived here for almost a year, and the previous tenant, well, he wasn't exactly sure about. There had been whispered conversations in the hallway, late-night visitors, the scent of something burnt lingering in the air.

His stomach clenched. He walked towards the package, his steps slow and deliberate. He should just throw it away, right? He picked it up. It felt heavier than it should.

He set it back down. He went into the kitchen to make some tea, anything to distract himself. The kettle whistled, shrill and insistent. He poured the boiling water into his mug, still staring at the package. He returned to the living room, feeling a chill despite the warmth of the tea. He finally, slowly, sat down, and reached for the package.