Gemotions

He found the parcel wedged between the newspaper and the front door, a simple brown box with neat handwriting. "Ms. Eleanor Vance." That was not his name. He ran a hand over his face. He'd lived here for barely two months, and the prior resident had been… different. Eccentric, the landlord had called her, but the stories were a little more sinister.

He took the box inside, setting it on the dining table. He couldn't shake the sensation of something being wrong, a growing sense of dread. He glanced at the window, then back at the package. He needed to get some air. He grabbed his coat, knowing he wouldn’t leave. He went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He walked past the table again, a strange pull drawing him back. He felt a need to know. He started to pull at the tape.