Gemotions

The package arrived just as the rain started to fall, a steady drumming against the windowpanes. She knew the name on the label. "Margaret Ainsworth." She'd heard whispers about the old woman who used to live here, about the strange things she collected, the way she kept to herself. She didn't want to bring it in, but the wind was picking up, and the box would be soaked in minutes. She quickly grabbed the package and shut the door.

She set the box on the floor near the doorway. The air suddenly felt thick, almost suffocating. She couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched, that someone was still present in the apartment.

She should just leave it, let the rain wash it away. She should. But curiosity, a dark and unwelcome companion, pulled her closer. She kicked the package a little harder than needed, and finally knelt down to open the flaps.