Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the doorstep, a squat, anonymous thing. Rain had spotted it, the address label smeared, but the name – "Evelyn Reed" – was still legible. *Not mine*, Clara thought, shifting the groceries from her numb fingers. She sighed, a puff of air that seemed to carry all the exhaustion from the day. Dragging the box inside, she barely glanced at it, letting it rest by the overflowing recycling bin. Later, maybe. She needed coffee, and then, simply, to *be*.

She considered throwing it away immediately, but an old, ingrained sense of obligation held her back. The previous tenant, Evelyn, had been…difficult. Still, it seemed unkind. She pictured herself, years ago, waiting for a package, the anticipation humming through her. She dragged her feet towards the kettle.

Later, she did notice a small, handwritten note taped to the side. "Fragile. Handle with care. Important contents." Evelyn's flourish, it turned out, was still as messy as her leaving. Clara shrugged and figured it would have to wait until tomorrow. She did not want to see anyone, or anything, until she absolutely had to.