Prompt: Free theme that engages in some way with things. Or, revision of one of last week’s things in such a way as to add objects to a scene you described, or elaborate their role in the theme.
I was in the packages office. Alone. The packages, the racks, the light, and me. The light: late afternoon rays of sun, a mix of yellow and orange peculiar to this time of day and season, found their way into the metal-barred slits lining the top of the room that masqueraded as windows.
I stopped. Where was Beatrice? If the UPS dragon lady found me here after not specifically instructing me by email to come, I would be at the receiving end of a diatribe about “ghost packages” laced with epithets about privileged Yale students.
Ghost packages. I looked around the racks, surveying the room. The light bounced off the plastic covering the names and addresses of the students whom the ghosts sought. Was an address even necessary? The labels should read “To: UPS office. For: eternity.”
A Swiss army knife. In my hand. I knew my responsibility; I tore open all of the ghosts that I could get my hands on. Turns out Yale students didn’t get many interesting shipments: mostly books about economics and The North Face jackets.
A small package. Addressed to me. It fell on my hand as I was snatching at another pair of Burberry boots. To: Anton Marakov. A package for me! I was confused – the dragon lady hadn’t messaged me. The size of a watch case, the nondescript box looked like all the others. As I tore open its tape, there flew pieces of dust from the cracks. I opened the flap; dust flew out unimpeded, eliminating the room and obliterating me. I screamed…
When I awoke to my phone’s alarm, I checked my inbox. I had an email from Beatrice, subject “YOUR PACKAGE HAS ARRIVED.” Maybe my economics textbook had come.
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