Gemotions

The box landed with a soft thud. "For Mr. Henderson," the label read. Maya ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that did nothing to alleviate the tension headache that had been her constant companion for weeks. She barely registered it as she walked by, each step a monumental effort.

She went straight for the couch, collapsing onto it with a sigh. She had been through so much today. The thought of dealing with anything else, even a simple package, was enough to make her want to scream. She had simply become unable to deal with anything at all.

Later, she caught a glimpse of it. It looked heavy. Probably something of great import, as the previous tenant, Mr. Henderson, was. She found herself unable to care. All she could do was close her eyes and breathe, each breath a struggle.