He began tapping onto his screen. The message. What had just happened at the
post office
. He had already told his group chat about it, but now he was going to tell her. But after it was all written out, he didn't feel it was right to send it. Couldn't explain why.
Why did we send descriptions of odd events of our lives to each other? Did people really care about the strange,
inexplicable
thing that happened that one Wednesday? He was convinced that people did care, except for one caveat. Most things that people found strange about their lives weren't strange at all. Instead they seemed so due to a lack of information.
This
PO Box
915 for example. Sure it could sound strange, and he'd do a pretty good job of making it sound so by describing how eerie it felt and the post office worker's voice and how it sounded like it was coming through another world through the wall of boxes. But in reality there was some rational reason for why the box hadn't been picked up in over a month. Maybe the man was on a cruise or something.
One thing he had learned since he had left
college
was that
rational
was boring. No point in
boring
her he thought.
Later that evening he was slouched down on the couch eating wan ton soup and watching Adam Sandler lose all his money in the film uncut gems. He wasn't that invested in the film however as he kept texting a girl he met on tinder the other day. He wan't sure what he thought of her yet as they had both cancelled previous dates and hadn't really discussed anything of note in awhile. Currently he was trying to explain what he did at work but it didn't seem she was following along. Suddenly he heard a loud bang from the front door of his apartment and jumped off the couch spilling his soup all over his backpack.
"Shit" he said as he surveyed the damage from the spill. His silently made his way to the door and peered out from the peep hole. Nothing. He opened the door and looked both ways down the long hallway but there was a sound or soul in site. As he turned around to get back into his apartment he noticed a purple piece of paper attached to his door knob. He skimmed through the writing. It looked like some coffee shop a couple blocks away was having its grand opening this Friday. He looked at his neighbors door and at the other doors down the hallway. strangely enough his was the only one that received this flyer.
The soup he'd spilled had soaked through his backpack and dampened all the mail he'd received earlier that day. As he leaned the envelopes against the wall by his counter in an attempt to air them out, he noticed an unmarked package. No return address. No Nothing. It was smaller yet heavier than the others...
"Shit" he said as he surveyed the damage from the spill. His silently made his way to the door and peered out from the peep hole. Nothing. He opened the door and looked both ways down the long hallway but there was a sound or soul in site. As he turned around to get back into his apartment he noticed a purple piece of paper attached to his door knob. He skimmed through the writing. It looked like some coffee shop a couple blocks away was having its grand opening this Friday. He looked at his neighbors door and at the other doors down the hallway. strangely enough his was the only one that received this flyer.
The soup he'd spilled had soaked through his backpack and dampened all the mail he'd received earlier that day. As he leaned the envelopes against the wall by his counter in an attempt to air them out, he noticed an unmarked package. No return address. No Nothing. It was smaller yet heavier than the others...