Gary stared at the box, mortified and mystified at the same time. He tilted the pink box around in his hands. It appeared to be made of a glossy, smooth, and sturdy construction paper. The box was reminiscent of the kind of boxes they delivered cake in in Japan. Gary spent an entire summer break in Japan when he was in his teens; he was always fond of their cakes and unique pastries and has longed to go again sometime before he died.
He felt the need to tiptoe across his floor towards his table, feeling as if there was someone in his house. Looking for him perhaps, or just spectating his every move. Gary sat down at the table as quietly as he could and set the box carefully in front of him. A gold trimmed red ribbon neatly held together the box with a cute little bow. Gary took a deep breath and began to undo the bow, when the laptop in front of him light up with a notification. Chester had messaged him again.
“You got my package.” Read the message from Chester. Gary pondered about how he should respond.
“Yes.” Responded Gary, after realizing that he could really be in some sort of danger and it was wise not to be callous.
“Do not open it.” Typed Chester, the message made Gary feel like it was a warning to heed.
“Ok.” Gary had resorted to simple and submissive one word answers because he felt like a hostage, he simply had no room to talk back or argue. The series of events was quickly turning into a morbid game of cat and mouse, and Gary was the helpless mouse; The helpless mouse trying to comprehend something bigger than him.
“Good, good, good. You don’t get to see what’s inside until later.” Responded Chester cryptically. Something told Gary that it wasn’t cake that the box housed within its pink walls.
“Ok.” Responded Gary uneasily, staring at the box sitting on the table in front of him. He didn’t quite know how to respond to the teasing message so he decided to respond neutrally, allowing Chester to continue the conversation.
“Now go get dressed, you’re going for a car ride.” Said Chester, Gary detected a certain degree of taunting and demented playfulness in the message.
Gary thought to himself, is he really going to let this “Chester” guy force him out of his own home? Gary supposed it’d be so.
Just as Gary was about to close his laptop to go get dressed, his laptop chimed again. “Don’t forget the box.” Typed Chester, ending the sentence with the purple devil emoji. Gary’s body forced him to sigh, he needed the air, he must’ve been holding his breath during the whole ordeal. Trembling, he closed his laptop.
With his heart beating in his throat and heard in his ears, he walked over to his bedroom and into his walk-in closet. He had trouble walking, he felt off-balanced and uncomfortable. He shut the door to his closet and took a deep breath, running his wrinkled and weathered fingers through his short, stringent gray hair. He was scared, but he pulled himself together and began sliding through his clothes.
Through much deliberation, he decided on a plain white tee shirt, black jeans, and a black bomber jacket. Gary had taken up fashion, he’s always cared about his personal appearance but especially so in the last couple years. He was, after all, a bachelor now.
Gary walked back to the parlor and slipped on his black and white Puma sneakers and adjusted his hair gently with his hand. He grabbed the car keys to his jeep and stepped out and walked out onto the driveway.
He got into his car, locked the door, started the car, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “What now?”ns 22.214.171.124da2