Assassin Zero

He's A Robot

My Saturday mornings were never as exciting as most people. To them it meant going to the beach with family and friends or attending this glamorous barbecue party. Well lucky me, I hated my family and my friend wasn't the party animal. So I was stuck home doing nothing but laundry. And surprisingly, I wasn't in the mood for drinking today.

I wore my morning gown before heading downstairs to go check if I had any mail. I already knew I didn't have anything but I don't know why I went either way. Maybe it was a way of self torture.

After five to ten minutes of leg abuse, I finally arrived the first floor. This floor didn't have any apartment rooms, just a thousand mailboxes with everyone's name and a small laundry room probably twice the size of my kitchen, which was small by the way.

"Of course, nothing", I laughed awkwardly after unlocking the empty dusty mailbox.

"Miss Clark, is that you?" I heard an old female voice say. And without turning, I already knew who it was. My old apartment floor neighbor.

"Mrs. McCall, how are you?" I turned to her with a smile. This woman was probably the only adult I loved. She wore small worn out brown glasses that looked older than me. Her white thin hair was always tied up into this small cute bun, her face was filled with nothing but wrinkles and her eyes were just a year away from being covered by her pale skin. She always wore this raspberry lipgloss to match with her pink everyday earrings and walking stick. I don't even know where she got the energy to do that considering she looked past eighty years old. Her outfits were always classic, the type you'd only see in old classic movies.

Even though she seemed as old as the earth, she was still beautiful. She always told me how she would cause the men to break each other's jaws just to get her attention. And obviously, that was how she met her late husband. I had never seen him, just saw photos and heard stories.

She gave me that lovely smile of hers before speaking, "I'm here to check my mail, darling. Hope you don't mind helping me?" She said, her voice as frail as ever.

"I don't", I said before she handed me her keys. When I opened, there was a load of letters. Probably twenty. Man, this old woman even got more attention than me?

"I'm only here for one specific letter. It's from my grandson, he said that he'd write me today. Is it Saturday?"

"Yes", I said looking through the letters. "His name's Steve. Steve McCall", she informed.

"Found it. Would you like me to read it for you?" I handed it out to her.

"You've already helped enough dear, I'll ask Kaya to help me read it once she returns home from school. Goodbye now", she said before walking away. Kaya was her teenage great granddaughter, she lived with her just to help out with some chores. I always wondered why she just couldn't be taken to the elderly home.

Immediately she walked out, a tall figure in black walked in. And I didn't have to look twice to know whom it belonged to. My knees turned into jelly and a whole freaking zoo moved into my stomach. I felt like I couldn't breathe. It was like his whole body took in most of the space in the room because it now looked smaller and felt hotter.

"Hello neighbor!" I shouted unnecessarily with a huge grin plastered on my face. He looked at me, examining my clothes.

"It's 8am, why are you still in your pajamas?"

"I just woke up, but I'm going to change soon". I said with embarrassment. He simply shrugged before walking past me and opening his mailbox which was right next to mine. Jackson Brown.

Unlike mine, his mailbox had at least two things inside. There was a huge brown envelope and a letter inside. He read the letter through with furrowed brows before tearing it to pieces. He was indeed a weird man. Who tears a letter?