She didn’t remember ordering anything.
The box on her porch was medium-sized, brown and scuffed, with no logo and a handwritten label. Her name, spelled right. No return address.
She carried it inside, cautiously optimistic. Maybe a gift from her sister. Maybe a mistake.
Inside: a book. Persuasion. Old edition, faded navy cover. Beneath it, a single index card.
You left this on the bus two years ago. Thought about reading it, but decided to return it instead. Hope you still want your ending.
—E
She sat down slowly, heart tripping over itself.
She remembered now. The winter she rode the 502 every night. The man who always got on two stops after hers. They spoke once. She dropped the book when she ran for her transfer.
He must have seen her name on the inside cover.
She held the book like it might explain everything.
Then reached for her coat.