Gemotions

The box appeared on the porch on a Tuesday, amidst a pile of recycling. It was addressed to "Ms. Eleanor Blackwood," a name that sent a jolt of something unpleasant through Emily. Eleanor Blackwood, the previous owner, a woman shrouded in local rumor. Emily’s skin became cold, her fingers felt numb.

She should leave it. She should ignore it. She should have the delivery service return it. She began gathering up the mail, her movements jerky. She walked to the trash can and threw her junk mail inside, hesitating before turning back to the package.

She went back to the kitchen, where she poured herself a cup of tea, but the scalding liquid offered no comfort. She watched the package, a dark shape on the porch. The world became very silent.