Incendiary

10. A heavy box, the stars, and drowning

Play the song when you see this (*)

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Nova

I walked into the apartment mailroom, an iced coffee in my hand and my keys in the other. I smiled at the front desk people and made small talk about the weather. I'm not very good at small talk- or conversations in general, so I always feel awkward, but somehow, I always manage to get roped into having small talk.

I wasn't expecting anything in the mail. Maybe a few random letters from newsletters I had signed up to while being on the internet too late at night, but nothing else.

So, I was surprised to see a big cardboard box addressed to me. I triple-checked the address, and each time it was the same.

I tried remembering when the last time I got drunk was, but I didn't remember a time where I got drunk and ordered anything.

Strange.

There was no return address- which I also found odd.

I set down my keys and coffee on the counter they had. The box was heavy and almost took me down when I picked it up.

I stumbled out of the mailroom and into the elevator. Someone from the staff offered to help, but I declined because I am an independent woman.

Then, halfway through the elevator ride, I regretted that decision- a lot.

I could barely stand straight from the weight of whatever, god-forsaken, item was in the box.

I let out a sigh of relief when I got to my door. I set the box down and reached into my coat pocket for my keys but couldn't find them.

I suppressed a groan as I took my walk of shame back to the elevator because I forgot my coffee and keys in the mailroom. I'm so great at doing things!

The people at the front desk gave me weird glances when they watched me walk back into the mailroom.

Mind your business, People. What if I was so much of a shopaholic that I needed two trips to the mailroom?

I picked up my iced coffee- which barely had any ice left, and grabbed my keys.

I made it back to my door, and I was met with another dilemma. How to get the box inside of my apartment?

I opened my door and started pushing the box inside with my foot. When it was inside, I left it by the front door and walked into my room.

I changed into sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt. It was around noon, but I had nothing else to do for the day other than sitting around my apartment.

My hair had been messed up by the wind during my walk. So I threw it into a lazy bun and called it a day. Getting distracted by my phone, I didn't leave my room again until about two hours later.

I got out of bed to get a snack- strawberries! I loved strawberries, but finding good ones was hard to do during the fall in New York.

My kitchen was small, but since I didn't cook- I didn't care. I liked cooking, but I never learned how to make anything other than simple pasta or boxed brownies.

I feel bad for whoever I marry in the future because they would get take-out for every meal. I don't want to get married, though, so I guess that would work out just fine.

I let the kitchen counter hold my weight as I ate my strawberries and continued to scroll through my phone.

I occasionally glanced at the box that sat by my door- feeling the curiosity seep back into my skin.