Gemotions

He slammed the phone down, the plastic receiver rattling against the cheap kitchen table. It was the third rejection this week, and the weight of it threatened to crush him. The email notification pinged. Another package. For "David Miller," the name of the man who lived in his house before. He barely knew the guy, just a shadowy presence he'd heard about from the landlord.

He walked to the door, shoulders slumped. The delivery driver seemed to take pity on him, offering a sympathetic look. He took the box with a grunt.

He dragged the package into the living room, a space that felt increasingly like a gilded cage. He stared at it, a useless piece of cardboard taunting him with its anonymity. He wanted to scream. Instead, he ripped a corner open and tossed the box into the corner. It landed with a soft, defeated thud.