Gemotions

The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound that made her jump. On the stoop was a package, addressed to “The Occupant.” No name. Just the generic address. She hadn’t expected anything. Her hands went clammy, the handle of the door slick beneath her fingers.

She brought it inside, her steps slow, her gaze darting around the hallway as if she expected someone to be lurking. She felt a phantom chill, despite the heat of the afternoon. A deep breath in her lungs caught.

She sat on the sofa, clutching the box in her lap. The silence of the apartment felt different now, charged. She tried to tell herself to ignore it, to leave it for tomorrow, but a persistent unease buzzed within her, like a trapped insect. She found herself reaching for the box cutter.