Gemotions

The delivery person had already gone when she saw the package. It lay on the porch, a long, slender box, unceremoniously dumped. She glanced around. No one else was on the street. She read the address: her own. The name: “David Finch.” She knew who that was, the man who had lived here before her, the one who left so abruptly, without a forwarding address.

She picked it up, feeling a strange resistance, as if she was lifting something heavier than it looked. She brought it inside, placing it on the floor of the hallway. Her hands were trembling slightly. She wanted to call her sister, to tell someone. She couldn't bring herself to touch it.

She walked past the box, then back, several times. She thought of calling the post office, but what would she say? It wasn't hers. It could be important, maybe. She found herself slowly reaching for a knife.