Complacency

The stale air pressed in all around, threatening to suffocate. His eyes darted between the closed window with its false promises of relief, and the empty box in front of him. The delivery had arrived unnoticed. No fanfare. No signature. Not even a knock interrupted the silence. The box would have remained on the doorstep until morning had the stillness in the apartment not driven him to step outside, where the air was just as hot but, he dared to hope, not as still. The tingling of his skin as the breeze caught his arm would be the only respite he could find from the suffocation, but it may be enough. No return address. He sat and stared at it. A thick line of black ink crawled its way across the top in the shape of his name, while smaller swoops and dashes had made sure it reached his door. There was no wind today.

POP!

The silence was broken as his laundry room key found its way violently through the seal protecting the contents of the small, brown box in front of him. He slid his hand into the breach and opened it wide, providing fresh stabs from the dull key as he reached each the edge. There is a unique excitement to opening a package, conjuring memories of Christmas morning, or a visit from Grandma; doubly so when the package is unexpected. The contents of the box are amplified for a time beyond what they are worth.

This package was empty.

The box turned absently in his hand, the ticking of the clock on the mantle growing louder with each passing second. Eyes focusing on nothing, he allowed the time to pass, acknowledging each moment as another step back to normalcy. It was simply an empty box. Probably a mistake. No way to tell where it came from. He wasn't expecting anything anyway. As he focused his gaze on the wall, the clock faded back into the background. After a moment, the refrigerator cycled on, and drowned it out completely. He placed the box between the board game and the basket cluttering up his counter, and returned to his seat, not giving it another thought.