Gemotions

The afternoon light filtered weakly through the dusty windows, illuminating the package's stark presence. It was addressed to "Ms. Sarah Bellweather." Amelia, a recent transplant, felt a familiar ache in her chest. She stood in the doorway of her new home, feeling exposed and alone. She glanced behind her, at the empty street.

She’d spent the morning cleaning, scrubbing the floor until her knees ached, hoping to make this place feel like a sanctuary. A tremor ran through her, making her legs weak. This package, a piece of someone else's life, felt like an unwanted intrusion. She wanted to be invisible. She didn't want to engage. She wanted to disappear.