Gemotions

The cardboard box sat on the welcome mat, a stark rectangle of brown against the peeling paint. Sarah hadn't even bothered to check the address; she just kicked it inside the door with her foot. Another intrusion. Another reminder of the life she wasn't living.

It had been addressed to "Mr. Thomas Finch," the name of the man who'd lived in her apartment before she did. She ripped the tape with a fingernail, the sound echoing in the stale air. A small, velvet-covered box emerged.

Inside, nestled on satin, was a silver locket. He must have had someone. A life, a love. Sarah slammed the box shut, a hot flush rising in her throat. She tossed it onto the overflowing pile of unopened mail on the kitchen table and went back to the couch.