Unexpected Delivery

"Mail?"

I muttered to myself as I watched Denica go back downstairs, clearly pissed off about something. So much so, she is inclined to let me slide till tomorrow evening.

"I don't remember ordering anything…

Still, her foul mood aside, at least I'd managed to buy myself one more day before needing to cough up rent. One more day of breathing room. I took that small win and shuffled out towards the stairs again before I entered my apartment, heading down to the rows of old, dented mailboxes just off the lobby.

The mailboxes were a joke. Rusting metal squares with loose hinges, missing knobs, and absolutely no locks. Honestly, I rarely even bothered checking mine; nothing came through but junk ads or the occasional angry letter from a utility company. But today, Denica had said there was mail, and that was just odd enough to pique my curiosity.

I found my box and tugged the little metal flap open. To my surprise, something was actually sitting inside.

Not a letter.

Not a bill.

No ads or promos.

But what was inside was a mysterious box.

The box was small, matte black, and strangely elegant; it almost seemed out of place surrounded by scratched aluminum and yellowed flyers for pizza discounts that were inside.

It was no bigger than the palm of my hand, with sleek corners and a soft sheen like velvet, but it wasn't... Rather, it felt more like high-end polymer, smooth and faintly warm to the touch.

"Huh."

I muttered.

"What the hell is this?"

There was no label on the box.

Nor was there any return address or even a postage stamp. Basically, nothing to suggest who sent it. Just a symbol embossed faintly into the lid: an infinity loop, the design being blood-red rose thorns.

Weird.

I thought to myself.

I glanced around, half-expecting this to be some kind of prank, but the hallway was empty. The building was quiet. Still, a nagging instinct told me this wasn't a mistake.

This was meant for me.

Curiosity officially piqued, I tucked the small box in my shirt pocket and climbed back up the stairs to my apartment. Once inside, I tossed it onto the old coffee table in front of my secondhand couch and made a beeline for the shower. Whatever this was, it could wait until I didn't feel like a grease-soaked goblin.

My shirt hit the floor.

Then my pants.

I peeled off the rest, stepped into the stall, and let the hot water hammer down on me like a steam drill. The noise drowned out the usual hum of my thoughts, and for a few minutes, I was free of the day.

Free of Denica.

Free of the daily stress. It was just heat and mist and the scent of my cheap, thin soap, which was basically non-existent now after this shower.

When I stepped out, I wrapped a towel around my waist and wandered back to the living room, hair dripping, body still steaming. I sat down on my old, stained sofa.

The fabric was warmed by the spring heat and god knows how many summers before. It creaked under my weight when I sat down. I didn't bother to put on any clothes, not yet at least, but right after I reached for the small box.

It was even fancier up close.

Up until now, I figured maybe it was some kind of novelty thing; maybe one of the neighbors ordered it, and it got sent to the wrong place. But as I gently pried the lid open, that theory went right out the window.

Their broke asses could never afford something like this.

Inside was a ring.

A silver band-like ring, thick and wide, obviously a male ring. It was elegant and seamless, polished to a mirror shine. It cradled a deep red gemstone, long and narrow, like a coffin enclosed with a black casing, with beveled edges that caught the light in a way that almost shimmered black. The stone was blood-dark, like dried wine or aged garnet. Not your typical design. It looked expensive. Ridiculously so.

I blinked, then looked again.

Again, I look around the inside of the jewelry box for any proof of purchase.

But again, there was no card.

No note.

Just the ring and the inside of the box, lined with dark velvet cushions that hugged the item like it was holding something sacred.

"What the hell...

I said with a surprised voice.

"This has to be a mistake."

I said to no one but myself.

But I couldn't take my eyes off the ring.

I lifted it out of the box, turning it in my fingers. It was heavier than I expected. It was warm, strangely so. I wasn't smart, but I did know that shouldn't be the case; from what I know, gemstones are usually cold to the touch, but then again, I could be wrong.

The silver was so smooth it almost felt like water, like touching mercury that didn't splash, yet it was solid. And the coffin-shaped gemstone itself… There was something about it. I couldn't put it into words. 

But something about it is creeping me out.

Hell, it could be the questionable shape of the ring. It looks like something you would see in those dark gothic webnovels or seinen fantasies.

"How strange, I wonder who made this? Its design clearly smells of wealth and precision of the craft."

"To be honest, I am no expert, but I am willing to bet this was custom-made to fit someone's taste. Most likely a male, given its masculine design with skulls and pentagon markings carved into the silver."

On impulse, I slipped it onto my left middle finger.

And surprisingly, it slid on like it had been made for me. Given how good it fits my finger.

"Damn, this is kind of scary given how perfectly it fits."

I sat there stunned, hand still held up as I stared at it. It did not wiggle as I moved my hand. It didn't even feel tight either. It was… perfect. So much so that for a moment, I forgot I was even wearing it. The ring felt like part of my body, so natural it may as well have grown there.

It was the first real piece of value I had held in months.

Maybe years.

And whoever it belonged to clearly had money.

And a lot of it.

In that moment, I started to think that maybe this was my ticket out... Rent, bills, groceries, hell, maybe even a cycle so I can drive to work.

"This is a high-quality craft; it will definitely sell for a good price, hahaha... Talk about good luck at the cost of another."

I chuckled darkly to myself.

"Sorry, mystery sender. I need this more than you."

Already planning my trip to the nearest pawn shop, I tugged on the ring to take it off.

I didn't want to decrease the value by smudging it.

But I soon ran into a problem.

"Um...why isn't it coming off?"

I said and frowned and pulled a little harder.

But still...nothing happened.

I braced my other hand and gave it a proper yank. The damn thing didn't budge an inch.

"No way!"

I said.

"No way it's stuck. It went on smoothly as butter!"

Getting off the couch, I walked to the bathroom and yanked open the cabinet. I grabbed a half-used bottle of lotion and squeezed some onto my finger. Slippery, messy, effective. I worked it around the base of the ring, feeling the cold lotion squish under the band.

I tried again. Twist, tug, and pull with great force.

"...c-c-c....ommme offf alrEADYYYY... Ahhh ow! ow! OWWW!!"

I shouted in pain because, at this point, even with the assistance of the lotion, it did not want to come off. Hell... I might as well be tearing off my own finger here.

"Seriously? What the hell is going on here... This... This can't be normal."

I said with clear horror in my voice, but I was soon knocked out of my thoughts when I heard a familiar sound coming from my phone.

Ding!

My phone notification went off as it lay on the coffee table in front of me.

Someone just messaged me on Messenger. Seeing this, my attention was now on the message as I picked it up and looked at it.

"... Oh, it's Talia."