“Postal service, do you mind accepting a package for Ms. Ivanovna?”
Still half asleep, I mumbled a ‘sure’ before I opened the door to the apartment building.
A few seconds later, a beaming postal worker pressed a package into my mind.
“You’re mister...?”
“Mueller.”
“Great, I’ll put a note in her mailbox.”
With that, he hurried away, and I was left with the package in my hands.
In the evening, I waited for Ms. Ivanovna to come get her package, but no one showed up. Same the next day.
After three days, I felt rather guilty. Who knows, maybe the postal worker put the note into the wrong mailbox or forgot to do it.
With a sigh, I went to have a look at what apartment she lived in. As I read through the names on the bell system, however, Ivanovna wasn’t one of them.
Not knowing what else to do, I left the package where it was, on a small table in my living room. I was sure she’d show up in time, and if not, it wasn’t my problem.
A few days later, the vilest stench greeted me when I returned home from work. At first, I didn’t know where it came from, but then I saw the damned package.
The bottom was wet and something had leaked from it.
“Fuck, the hell’s in there?”
As I tore it open, covering my mouth and trying my hardest not to throw up, I found a plastic bag filled with meat inside that must’ve torn open.
Shit, if I’d know it was food, I’d have put it in the fridge.
Nothing I can do about it now, I thought, as I dumped it into a trash bag and threw it into the dumpster outside.
Not like anyone’d show up after a week, anyway.
I was wrong and a few days later, a pair of police officers arrived at my door.
“Mr. Mueller, we’d like to ask you some questions.”
“Sure, what’s going on?”
“Have you by any chance accepted a delivery this past week?”
I didn’t know what this was about, but I answered I had indeed.
“Do you, by any chance, recall this young man?”
At first, I had no clue, but then I recognized him as the young postal worker.
“Oh yeah, that’s the delivery guy who... Excuse me, what’s this all about?”
Down at the station, I learned the truth about the ominous package, as well as the young postal worker.
The man who’d greeted me so friendly that morning had murdered his roommate and dismembered him. Then, to dispose of the body, he’d sealed the parts in plastic bags and delivered them to the people around the area to dispose of them.
Even now, days after, I’m still feeling sick to my stomach, knowing what sat inside my apartment for the better part of a week.
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