There’s a box sitting right in the centre of my coffee table. Red. Heart-shaped, with my name written on it in black Sharpie. As I stare at it I feel my heart fluttering in my chest as though I’m in the beginning stages of terror. My entire body is shaking so much I wouldn’t be surprised if the air around me vibrated.
It isn’t fear I’m feeling, though. Well, not entirely. Mostly, what I’m feeling is anticipation, because this isn’t just any old box. My eyes are fixed on the black scrawl. My name, written in spiky, inch high capital letters, but no address. It wasn’t delivered by a courier service, it was hand delivered. Deliberately positioned in the centre of the table where I couldn’t fail to see it as soon as I walked through the front door.
She put it there. Continue reading “Heart-Shaped Box”