2. One month later
It's another one of those days when you would never go outside. Rain streams down the windows and you can hear the wind howling through the panes. But I guess it doesn't make a difference for me.
I've got a cup of warm cocoa glued to my hand and I take a sip, the burning of my lips such a lovely sensation. Why feel the pain when you can numb it?
I’m just beginning to flick through the newspaper when the doorbell rings. I take a glimpse out the window. No pattering footsteps or gleeful voices. Who else could it be?
Settling my cup on the table, I go to open the door. A woman stands before me, holding out a crate of something.
"Your delivery," she states, deadpan.
"Delivery?" I repeat.
"It's the vegetables you signed up to get delivered a week ago."
I shake my head. They must have written down the wrong address. She looks down at the paper in her hands, before holding it up for me to see.
"You paid the amount for it online and keyed in this address."
I scratch my forehead. How could I have forgotten? Surely I would remember if I had ordered a bunch of vegetables.
Anyhow, I force a smile and take the box. "Thank you."
Walking back inside, I slam the door, trapping away the rain, the cold, everything.