Morning Routine

I absolutely hate my morning routine. Everyday it's the same thing, over and over again, I guess that's why they call it a routine. But I kind of find it comforting, not needing to think about what you're gonna do for the next couple minutes.

'Beep! Beep!' Ah, there it is. The constant beeping sound of death. I turn to my side and look at my desk with a blank look on my face, unfortunately I woke up. I stretch my arms and legs far, but not too far, because I'd probably end up getting a cramp.

What time is it? My alarm is busted and won't show the time, it just shows 8:38 in the morning everyday. It can keep track of the time to wake me up, but not the time to tell me.

I finish my stretching and sit up, my stomach ache still hasn't healed from last night. I can hear my own stomach growling at me to eat something greasy and indulgent.

I look around my room and I realized I should probably clean this mess up, there's empty beer cans on the ground and random junk piled atop one another.

I yawn and stretch my arms again, but they don't feel as good as I did earlier, I must've overstretched, whatever.

I turn to my side and place my feet on the ground, the cold tiled floor sends a chill down my spine, like being ticked softly, it's kind of warm.

I pull my slippers out from beneath my bed and slide them out, slipping my feet inside of them. Wait, is that why they're called slippers? Because you slip your feet into them? Whoever made these are a genius.

I stand up and yawn again, what's it with me and yawning? Above my dilapidated wooden desk is a small mirror with a small crack in the bottom right corner. I look at myself in the mirror and see a beautiful man staring back.

Who am I kidding, I obviously see myself. Is that actually me? God, I look atrocious. I have long black baggy eye bags underneath my eyes that basically sag them down and my curly black hair is shaped in all different ways.

Whatever, I've got work at 8:30, what's the time now? I look at the clock on my wall and it reads 7:42. 7:42? Just 7:42? Man, I would've thought it'd be earlier. Guess I'll skip breakfast.

"Delivery for Connor Reynolds?" A knock at the door abruptly confused me. A package? I didn't order anything, what is it?

I opened the door from my room to the living room and walk out, an odor lingered in my apartment that I seemingly can't get rid off. I take a right turn and walk towards my front door.

My living room was still under renovation, the panel on my ceiling had a massive hole through it, why? I don't know, it just appeared there. Now there's a massive tarp on my floor with all my tools and stuff, I don't want to call a guy in to fix it, too expensive, I'd rather do it myself.

"Hello?" The man at the door rung my bell. Oh right, I nearly forgot about the guy standing at my door, better go there so as to not waste his time.

"Hello?" I unlock the door and swing it open, but there wasn't anybody standing on the other side. I peak my head out of the door and look to the left, nothing, I look to the right and there's also no one. I try to step outside but my foot is caught on something.

I look down and there's a cardboard box sitting right there on my front door mat. A box? I swear I didn't order anything. I bent down and looked at the label, it was addressed to me and it had my address plastered on a small yellow paper.

I try to pick the box up but it was surprisingly heavy, I was barely able to lift it up.

"Need a hand?" I see two strands of orange hair fall into my peripheral. A soft voice spoke to me from above. I turn my head up and see a beautiful ginger girl staring right back at me.

I don't even know where to start, she was stunning. She had long black hair that reached down to her back and she had freckles sprinkled across the face and on her nose, a small mole on her bottom left chin. She wore a brownish orange dress and pointy shoes. She wore a hat even though she was indoors.

"I'll be fine." I smiled at her cheerfully as I picked up the box and balanced it on my knee. "Thanks."

"Is your house under renovation?" She peeked her head around my back and looked at my living room.

"Yeah." I laughed slightly. "There's been a leak, trying to fix it myself."

"Oh, is the apartment quality here bad?" The girl asks with a inflex on the end of her sentence.

"Well..." I turn around and look at my room, the paint was basically peeling off the walls. "It's not the nicest but it's home for sure." I reassured the girl. "By the way I'm Connor." I try to reach my hand out but I can't quite seem to balance the box on my arm.

"My names Pamela, but you can call me Pam. I just moved in here about a week ago, I've been stuck in my house all week just unpacking stuff." Pam grabbed my hand and shook it. "The apartment listing was real cheap."

"Oh, we don't get many new residents here, why'd you choose to live here?" I asked Pam, the last new resident I knew that moved in here was a drug mule.

"I quit my job and I'm chasing my dream of a freelance photographer, New York has plenty of amazing sites and the people are amazing." Pam smiles as she shivers with excitement.

"New York is a place all right." I turn around and walk back into my living room and sat the package down beside my kitchen counter. "I'd recommend going to t-" I turn my head but Pam had gone already, there was no one at my front door. "Pam?" I called out to her but I didn't get a response.

"Pam?" I walked out of my front door and looked out, right beside me was Pam. She was holding some keys and juggling them around. "Where did you go?"

"Sorry! I just remembered, I've got guests tonight and I think I left the oven on!" Pam smiles nervously at me as she fondle the keys around, trying to get the correct one. I walk out of my house, still in my pajamas and walk over to her.

"All the apartments here use basically the same looking key." I pointed to one of Pam's keys and pointed at the lock. It was a silver key but had accents of gold, probably not intentional and just a by product of rust but it looked very cool.

"Right." Pam holds the lock up and slots the key in, twisting it and opening the door. "Thanks."

"Well you be on your way now, I've got work." I nod my head and start walking towards my apartment. "It's nice to see a fresh face around here once in a while." I look back and Pam had already entered her apartment, the door was left ajar.

I guess she's busy too, everyone's got something to do, somewhere to be and someone to meet. I think nothing of it and lock my own door, closing it behind me.

I look at the clock on my living room wall and it read 7:46. Just 7:46? It felt like longer, much longer. I shrug my shoulders and walk to my kitchen counter to inspect the mysterious box. Now I am extremely confident that I did not order anything online, I think.

I open my kitchen counter and take out a pair of scissors. If it's someone else's order I'll just write back to the company and tell them about it, no biggie. I try to lift the box again and it is extremely heavy, too heavy to be anything ordinary. I slam it down on my kitchen counter and it physically shook the entire kitchen.

I opened my scissors to make it one sided, making it easier to cut this box open. I traced the tape that line the box with the blade and made a small incision at the top where the tape held both sides of the cardboard together. In one fell swoop I slice down the middle and cut the tape open.

Ah! I cried out in pain as I cut myself on the sharp blade of the scissors. Blood poured out from the small cut at my finger tip on my index finger. Son of a bitch! What's even inside this cardboard box?

I ignore the cut on my finger and walked over to the cardboard box. I peered into it and it was filled with packing peanuts, but at the top of the box was an old photograph. The photograph was of a young woman holding a child, the text read 'To my dearest son.'