Gemotions

He opened the door to find it propped against the frame, obscuring the welcome mat. The address read "To Mr. Theodore Finch, or Current Resident." It was small, unassuming, but it loomed. He felt a tightening in his throat.

He knelt to pick it up, his muscles stiff, his movements slow and deliberate. As he straightened, he glanced around the empty street, a strange feeling prickling across his skin. He couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.

Inside, he found a single, tarnished silver locket. He ran a finger over the cold metal. He knew, with a certainty that settled in his stomach like a stone, that he shouldn't have opened it.