Gemotions

The air in the apartment felt thick and stale. Another package. "For the artist," the note from the delivery person read. The artist, whoever they were. She felt a sting, a knot in her stomach that felt like a betrayal. The previous tenant, a woman named Emily, had been a painter, a free spirit. She felt a pang of resentment, a deep longing for something she couldn't name.

She answered the door, her expression tight.

She accepted the package. She was in no mood to deal with anyone or anything. She left the box sitting on the counter. She felt a sense of paralysis, a feeling of being stuck. She wanted to run away. The package watched her.