It’s just a box. Just brown cardboard. Nothing scary about that. Yet the scissors remain unsnipped on the countertop, the tape remains intact.
His name blares out, the letters starkly black. Like spiked railings, like jagged teeth.
He’s half a mind to send it back. He knows it came from Them, Their Logo emblazoned all over. He takes a step back. Purses lips and sucks his teeth.
Outside the light fades. He makes tea.
The sound of keys jangling the lock. He knows it’s too late. Hears ripping, snipping and then… delight. It came!
He shrugs. He got it right.