Mark Smith rose from his bed at precisely 6:02am every morning, and this morning was no different. He sat on the edge of his mattress yawning and stretching, then slowly slipped on his slippers and shuffled out of his diminutive bedroom into the chilly hallways of his apartment. He only owned a single heater and hadn't the money or the credit to turn the gas on in his house, so the walk from the bedroom to the kitchen did far more to wake him up than any cup of coffee or rousing bout of morning wood sex ever did.
His Siamese cat, Guilty Spark, sat on the counter next to the stove, his tail waving back and forth as he acknowledged his owner with a verbal greeting. Mark, in turn, touched his forehead to that of his cat's as he did every morning, and gently meowed back. It was familiar and goofy and personal and it seemed to match perfectly for both owner and pet. Mark poured some milk for his cat and refilled his dry food, then set about making breakfast for himself.
Cheerios with brown sugar and banana slices soon felt themselves drowning in milk, but before he could take his first bite, Mark heard a knock at his door. He set his bowl down and passed from his kitchen through his living room, grabbing hold of the front door's knob and pulling it open. He expected to see someone standing there waiting, but saw nobody. He looked down and spotted a small package sitting on his front stoop, a tag hanging on by a scrap of tape and threatening to blow away, though the air spoke nothing of wind in that moment.
Looking about for a delivery boy, Mark found nobody. He stooped down to pick up the package, noticing that it was much heavier than it would have made you believe; it took the entirety of his strength to lift it from his stoop into his house. He managed to set it on one of his floor rugs, and proceeded to drag the rug through the house to his bedroom rather than try to lift the package and carry it. Upon arrival, Mark sat on his bed to take a rest.
The box looked like nothing out of the ordinary. It was a solid brown color with no identifying marks of any kind, and was about the size of a Kleenex box. Taped on one of its sides was a tag with a label that read,
'For...' and no receiver. Mark figured it was an accidental delivery, and judging by the weight, figured it was a small box of lead.
"Who would order a box of lead?" he asked himself as he made to open the box, but before he could grasp the sides, his phone rang. He stopped, stood up, and pulled out his cell phone, reading the number and swearing on the inside. It was his ex-wife.
"You should have been here fifteen minutes ago! Where are you? Fooling around with some no-good hussy, I bet. Get your ass over here and PICK UP YOUR CHILD!" As suddenly as it started, the call ended. Mark looked at his clock on the wall and read the time - 6:20am.
"Stupid bitch probably forgot to set her clock back last night." Mark shrugged off the blistering phone call and proceeded to dressed and ready to leave to pick up his daughter from her visit with her mother. The box on the floor lay forgotten as Mark picked up his pocket-stuffings and left the house.
