Float On

Part 1

It has been a bad week. Well, every week is bad if you're me, but this one was worse than usual. Most of the time I don't mind sitting by myself in the dark all day long and honestly, it's no big deal once you get used to it, especially when you don't have much of a choice. I have my computer and my TV, which is the total of my social interaction on any given day. I'm aware of how horrible that sounds to most people, but for me, it's my only connection with the outside world and it keeps me sane. Most of the time.

I have a small one bedroom apartment on the second floor, which is plenty big since it's just me. It's not an excellent place for entertaining people or having company, but I've never had any visitors and that probably isn't going to change anytime soon. The best part of the apartment is the small balcony that overlooks the London street and surrounding apartments, restaurants, and shops. It's just big enough to fit a chair and a small table and since I can realistically only go outside at night anyway, it suits me just fine. When I still had a proper job, I could afford better, but not so much now that I'm funded by blogging, YouTube, and Patreon.

Standing by the window, I peek out through the shut blinds, squinting at the bright afternoon sunshine. I can hear voices and cars from below, but I don't dare look down at them. Glancing at the building across the street, I notice with surprise that all of the blinds on the second-floor windows are also shut, which is a rarity, so I inch mine open and let the last gasp of the bright evening light into the living room. The buildings aren't that far away and the last thing I want is to be able to see my neighbors roaming around their apartments. With the warmth streaming in through the window, I plop down on the couch with my laptop and start browsing, looking for some inspiration.

There's a sharp knock at the door but I continue typing at my laptop and don't acknowledge it. Out of habit, I look at the time and wait a full 5 minutes before standing up and walking over to the door, making sure to look out of the peep hole to double check that no one is still standing in the hallway. I open the door and take a step out, gathering up the three large packages stacked on my doormat.

"Excuse me!" a voice calls out from down the hall. I glance up and see the delivery driver trotting my way carrying another box. "Daniel Howell?"

With my heart pounding, I quickly look away and try to get back inside, but I stumble and drop one of my boxes. I toss the other two in the door and scramble to try to grab the other one, but it's too late.

"Are you Daniel Howell?" he asks again cheerfully, now standing only a few feet away from me.

"Um, yes," I mumble, scooting the package still sitting on the floor into my apartment with my foot.

"I forgot one in the truck," he says, handing me the fourth box.

"T-thank you," I stutter as I reach out with one hand and try to grab it without looking up.

"Are you ok?" he asks with concern. "It's a heavy box and you're going to need more than one hand. You need some help?"

I inadvertently glance up and find myself face to face with an older gentleman in a delivery uniform. He has a kind but concerned look on his face and is still holding the large box with my name written on the label.

"No, I think I can handle it," I answer, my eyes now trained about a foot above him. I reach out tentatively and grab the package from his outstretched hands.

"Ok then. Well, have a lovely afternoon, Daniel," he says with a smile before he turns and makes his way back towards the stairs. I watch him as he goes, unable to look away. Floating above his head, but slightly trailing behind him as he walks, is a jumble of words that spell out 'I steal packages from rich people.'