Gemotions

The delivery person had simply left the box on the doorstep, no signature required. It was addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Vance," the woman who’d lived here before, and who'd vanished without a trace, according to the landlord. A knot formed in her stomach.

She carried the box inside, her steps hesitant. The apartment felt different, quieter than usual. She placed the box on the floor, far from the center of the room. She was filled with an inexplicable apprehension.

She went to the kitchen and made a pot of tea. The rhythmic clinking of the kettle was supposed to be comforting, but it only amplified the silence. She stared at the box from across the room, feeling as though it were watching her back.