Gemotions

"Ms. Iris Thorne." The handwriting was elegant, the label pristine, a jarring contrast to the state of the apartment. Amelia had been battling it all day, and the weight of it threatened to suffocate her. The box sat like a reproach. She wanted to throw it out of the window.

She had to get to the grocery store, and she thought briefly of the errand, and how much she did not want to do it. The world itself felt a burden she didn't possess the strength to carry. Every task seemed insurmountable, every breath a struggle.

She did not even want to look at the package. She was done. She'd deal with it tomorrow.