A Drone Delivery of Friendship
Brian clicked idley across his screen. It was that awkward period of the night, when you’re not tired enough to go to sleep but it’s too late to really do anything of substance. He seemed to be the only one awake at this point, as his content feeds were not producing anything new.
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. How would he be able to handle this feeling of ennui?
He looked back down at his screen and pulled up the website for the big online store. As soon as the page loaded it became inundated with suggestions for things to buy. One product in particular stuck out: a waffle maker. It had been a long time since he had waffles, and being able to make them himself seemed like a good way to pass the time.
The item was purchased without prejudice. As soon as the transaction completed a message appeared on screen.
“Drone delivery will occur in six minutes. Please make your way to the roof and await delivery.”
Brian grabbed the keys from the wall and exited his apartment. In the lobby he waited for the elevator and gave a voice command for the roof. The doors closed and began to elevate him. Soon enough they reopened and he stepped out onto the stone surface of the roof. It had snowed recently and his steps left slight marks.
He peered off across the avenue, which was inundated with colorful lights lining the sidewalks. While he was unable to see his delivery, he could hear the faint whirring of the quadcopter approaching. Once it flew over the roof it paused and hovered above his head. A small box on a hook began descending. As soon as it was within reach Brian pulled the strings to detach the hook from the box.
Once the weight was removed, the drone retracted its hook and began to fly away into the darkness. Brian turned back to the elevator and returned to his apartment where he eagerly cut open the box. His mouth watered as he began to imagine a chocolate chip waffle drenched in maple syrup.
He was disappointed when, upon opening, he did not find a waffle maker as he expected but rather an odd figurine. It was a dinosaur, probably a T-Rex, in an astronaut helmet and uniform. It was the near opposite of what he ordered.
Brian grabbed the box to look at the label. As he suspected, it was not addressed to him but to another person in the apartment building named Emily. She was two floors above him. He got her delivery by mistake. The trinket was returned to its box and he headed out again to complete the last mile.
As he was about to knock on the door he noticed it was ajar. He could hear someone inside coughing intensely. He set the box down along the wall and pushed the door open.
“Hello?” he called out.
There was no reply, but the sound of the coughing seemed to be coming from the bathroom. He clenched his fingers in his fist, feeling a bout of anxiety. He did not want to intrude on his neighbors, especially one he had never met before, but couldn’t leave without ensuring they were okay.
“Hello? Are you alright in there?” he called out again.
He stepped into the apartment, which brought him into the living room. The lights turned on automatically, detecting his presence. The walls were bare of decoration and there was only a small television sitting on a slightly larger table. He closed the door, returning it to its slightly ajar position from before.
Around the room he could see the remnants of delivery boxes, opened and scattered across the floor. As he walked towards the bathroom, he gingerly stepped over several glass bottles. One of them was a bottle of tequila. This trinket was not her first delivery.
“Emily?” he called as he stood outside the bathroom door.
He could see a body and a mound of red hair slumped over the toilet. There was the thick stench of vomit. He held his breath to avoid gagging as he reached over her and pushed down on the button. The loud flushing seemed to stir her.
“What’s going on?” she mumbled and slurred.
“I’m Brian, a neighbor of yours. I got your package,” he explained.
“What did I order?”
“A trinket, a dinosaur in an astronaut costume.”
“I can’t remember ordering that,” she complained.
“You’re too drunk to remember,” he reasoned. “Let me help you up and get you to bed.”
Brian reached for her arm to pull her up. She did not resist, but also did nothing to help. Her arms were limp even as she stood up. Having her standing, he escorted her to the bedroom at the far end of the hallway. They had to walk carefully to avoid her stumbling, though she spent most of the time leaning against the wall.
She fell face-first into her bed, over the covers. Brian made sure she was okay while he went to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. It would help her with the approaching hangover. He opened several cupboards but couldn’t find any glasses or mugs. He didn’t want to spend too much time prying in her personal belongings so he grabbed a ceramic bowl and returned with fresh water.
“It’s all pointless,” she stated succinctly, now turned right-side up as she accepted the bowl.
“What do you mean?” Brian asked, holding the bowl so she didn’t drop it.
“My fiancé broke up with me,” she noted.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“Then my dog passed away,” she continued.
“That sucks,” he agreed.
“And today I was laid off,” she finished.
“That’s really tough,” he commiserated.
“Maybe it’s a sign. The world is moving on without me. I don’t have a place here anymore.”
“Don’t say that. It’s not true. You’re just tired and drunk.”
“I’m very tired,” she agreed.
“Go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. Well, not right away. You’ll have a serious hangover, but sleep.”
He took back the bowl and sat it on the floor next to her bed, as she didn’t have a nightstand. She closed her eyes and lay back against the single pillow on the mattress. He tried to pull the blanket that she was laying over, but could only get enough slack to cover half of her. Despite his difficulty, she seemed to be quickly going to sleep.
“I didn’t want your pity, you know. I didn’t ask for help,” she complained in a soft whisper.
“You don’t need to ask. I’m volunteering.”
Brian left the bedroom. Not detecting any movement the overhead lights dimmed. He walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. The door locked behind him.
He returned to his apartment and went straight to his own bed. Despite laying down he could not stop thinking about her bad fortunes. While he had some misfortunes, they usually were not back-to-back. It wasn’t surprising that she would feel disaffected. He wondered whether he had done the right thing, or if he should have done more. He still felt weird about the whole thing, but hoped that someone would help him if he was in the same spot.
At some point he must’ve gone to sleep because he opened his eyes as synthetic light shined in through the window. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He felt a flash of anger as he heard the sound of loud banging. Why did they begin construction so early in the morning?
Then he realized it wasn’t construction. Somebody was knocking on his door. He quickly pulled on his robe and headed towards the door. Emily was on the other side, in her own robe and slippers. She looked tired and unkempt.
“Thank you for helping me last night,” she spoke in a quiet, melancholy voice.
“How are you feeling?” he inquired.
“Hungover, but in better spirits,” she answered with a false smile.
“Are you hungry? Want breakfast?” he invited.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” she said with another smile. This one seemed more sincere.
“What do you want? I could cook some eggs, or maybe toast.”
“Honestly, I’m kind of craving waffles.”
“Oh shoot! I’ll be right back!” Brian shouted as he ran towards the elevator, to get to the roof.
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