When I woke up today I never thought I would end the night in a dark room covered in blood, with a woman lying unconscious on the floor next to me and a laptop on the counter.
There was nothing odd about the day apart from a package that arrived at my doorstep. It wasn’t for me; it was actually for the apartment across the hall. I only moved in a month ago and I still felt a bit awkward knocking on the door and seven in the morning. I decided to wait another hour.
They just don’t make packages like they use to, all it took was a kitchen knife to get thought the tape, now I don’t think I trust such a penny pinching delivery company. Even though I felt slightly filthy opening someone’s mail, the content inside made it all worth it.
A book from an American author and a letter about me, how exciting. The note is from a man named Jacob to a woman named Patricia, or as I call her door 203. The man tells the woman how he fears his friend will find the new package sent by the thief. He goes on to whine a bit more before asking her to check out the man she suspected in her last letter.
At eight I decided it would be an appropriate time to give Patricia her poorly secured package and slightly used book. She fought rather dirty, but I was the champion. I had the idea of letting Jacob know his little friend needed help when she whispered a name while unconscious. I also know if this Jacob does decide to come he will bring my favorite explorer. Come get me solace.