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The Package
Marcie I fidget with my phone in line at the basement mailroom of Delacruz-Webb. Maybe it wasn’t smart to cut out of Ethical Health and Technology early, but Professor Shields was going over a paper we’d been assigned, like, a dozen times. And it’s a Friday. And the box Theresa promised to send is here. The line moves forward. I show my student ID to the bored attendant then receive the massive package. It isn’t wrapped, just taped. The same box I remember. I mutter my thanks and hurry out. My heart races as I rush home. I unlock the apartment door and re-lock it behind me awkwardly, juggling the oversized package. I feel like it’ll disappear if I put it down. The dark living room means Heather has work today, which means she won’t be back until dinner, but I still go to my bedroom and
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