Gemotions

The cardboard box had been left on her doorstep. She didn't remember seeing the delivery person. She walked to the door, her pace slow, her senses heightened. "S. Miller," the label read. The name was unfamiliar. Her knuckles went white as she grasped the handle of the door.

She brought it inside and placed it on the dining table. Her eyes scanned the room, every shadow, every corner. She took a deep breath. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a hammer, bringing it back to the table.

She circled the package, her breathing shallow and fast. She looked at it again. She slammed the hammer down hard. The box tore, and then she saw.