Gemotions

He found the package nestled amongst his own mail. A chill ran down his spine despite the warm afternoon sunlight filtering through the window. The name, "Evelyn Reed," was unfamiliar, the handwriting spidery and elegant. He stared at the box, the hairs on his arms standing on end.

He grabbed a glass of water, gulping it down quickly. He knew he should leave it, mark it return to sender, but a morbid fascination held him. His hands trembled as he cut open the tape. He kept expecting a buzzer sound, or a loud knock.

The contents were wrapped in tissue paper. He hesitated, his heart hammering against his ribs. It was an ornate music box. He should just put it back in the box, he told himself, but the delicate melody it played when he opened it kept him rooted in place.