Gemotions

The afternoon sun cast long shadows as she unlocked the door, anticipating the end of a long, stressful workday. Then she saw the package. It was a large, sturdy box, addressed to "Mr. Silas Thorne." The name meant nothing to her, but the address was definitely hers.

She felt a knot tighten in her chest. She remembered hearing the landlord mutter something about the previous tenant, how peculiar he was. He moved out in the dead of night, leaving behind nothing but dust and a faint, unsettling odor that clung to the walls. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She kicked the box aside, then stopped. It's not like she had to do anything with it. But a persistent buzzing feeling told her to. She knelt down beside the box, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She had a bad feeling.