Gemotions

He stared at the package, the bold black letters mocking him. "To Mr. Johnson." The previous tenant. What a useless intrusion. He’d never even met the guy. He felt a pressure in his temples, a dull ache that wouldn't relent.

The bell rang. He took a long, slow breath.

He answered the door, the package shoved in his face. He barely grunted a thank you. He brought it back inside, and flung the package onto the floor. He paced the room. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. The walls felt like they were closing in. He wanted to smash something.