Package

Gordon didn't want to think about it anymore. But he still did. It was just a package, that's all. What's the big deal?

True, it was technically none of his biz. Didn't have his name on it, or address. The small package was for his former next door neighbor, Stefan, gone three months past  They shared the duplex for a year, Stefan's unit identical to Gordon's, both small, for one.

They got along okay as neighbors but never became friends. Gordon had an odd feeling about him from the start, with his Serbian music and loud phone conversations, but Gordon kept quiet. He just felt that his foreign neighbor was into something unsavory. What did he do? Why was he in America? What did he leave behind in the war-torn country he fled? Gordon certainly had his theories, but what about this delivered package?

And, why did his neighbor Stefan vacate so abruptly, saying nothing prior, leaving in one day really, gone. Gordon thought him suspicious, into something secret. He could just tell the postman on Monday, maybe there's a new forwarding address. Or not. No one would know, it could be stolen right off their common porch all weekend, Gordon concluded. He took in the package, setting it on a table.

The return label only showed a single last name, from Oshkosh, Wisconsin. Gordon felt an itch of curiosity that only got worse. He wondered so much about this shady neighbor, maybe the package could reveal a clue, or maybe Gordon could prevent something bad from going down, he rationalized to himself, no one there to disagree. That's reason enough, he concluded.

The package would confirm his insticts about Stephan, what sort of "package" he really was. We're all a package, Gordon mused, good or bad. Another two hours passed, then Gordon's thoughts aligned: he has to open it, and immediately. The rest be damned. He grabbed the package and a steak knife from the kitchen drawer.

Gordon tore into the rectangle box like it was Christmas morning, confident his actions would answer questions. After wads of newspaper, he glimpsed bits of color, round tin, plastic wrap?

Good lord, he thought, stunned, but more than that- maybe also some unexpected chagrin. It's some kind of fruit cake? There was a card. It was signed, "Love you nephew. Aunt Carol."