Unexpected groceries
A quick scene sketch inspired by grocery deliveries.
I open the door to a supermarket delivery.
"Any bottles to return? Or packages to post for you?" The chipper delivery man smiles over the seven bags he's set on my door step.
I flap at him. "These aren't mine. Sorry, you'll need to take them to the person who ordered them."
He shrugged. "7 Cotswold Drive, right?"
I nodded slowly.
"That's what it says on the order. They're for you. Enjoy." He turned to leave.
My brain short-circuited. "I can't take these. I can't pay you..." My voice dies down to a whisper.
"Prepaid." His cheerful voice streams over his shoulder as he doesn't even turn.
I remain rooted on the spot watching as he hops back into his van and drives off down the road.
When a leaf from the nearby tree twirls down brushing my nose, I start. What am I doing? These are mine now, so I may as well take advantage of it.
With a silent thanks to the universe for providing for me, I grab the bags and trug them into the kitchen area of my studio apartment to unpack. It would take me some time to figure out where to return this to, by which time much of it would be past its best. At least, that was a good reason to keep it for myself. The delivery guy hadn't seemed to care that I hadn't ordered them, so I wasn't hurting anyone.
Two cartons of milk, a loaf of seedy bread (slightly squashed from being packed under the milk), a block of cheese and three large tomatoes come out of the first bag. All appreciated and easily placed where my meagre provisions had been. Three red peppers, a courgette, a bunch of bananas and a head of broccoli follow out of the second bag.
Whoever ordered these was on a health kick, but I wouldn't turn my nose up at fresh vitamins.
Two cans of tomatoes, a can of tuna and a can of red kidney beans along with a bag of small potatoes were in the third bag. All equally easily put away in my cupboard. The fourth bag had a pack of minced beef, a pack of chopped chicken thighs pieces, and four sausages. And the fifth had a pack of sliced ham, a pot of mayonnaise and four part baked croissants.
My mini fridge was full now. As was the cupboard. Two more bags to go and I wasn't sure where the contents would go.
I paused when I looked inside the sixth bag. This wasn't the standard groceries. At least, I'd never noticed one selling bags of mealworms. They were still wriggling. Were they meant to be bait? But what for? Under them were round pellets of something I couldn't identify. Uncertain what to do, I left them in the bag.
Which left the final bag. Did I dare open it? The first five bags were standard groceries, even if I had no idea who had ordered them. But something about the final bag worried me, especially after the contents of the previous one.
I shook my head. There was no way for anyone to predict what order I'd open the bags in. So I shouldn't assume that the weirdest one was left for last.
Grabbing the sides of the bag in both hands, I ripped them apart, exposing the contents to my view. Three notebooks, a bottle of red ink, and a roll of washi tape with a repeating pattern of cartoon devil horns and tails.
That was not what I expected, but also didn't seem nefarious. Notebooks were always useful for my studies, and my cousin loved novelty washi tape.
The food helped me through that week, at the end of which I got a job at the bar on the corner, solving my income issues. The mealworms and pellets I threw away, uncertain what to do with them. And the bottle of ink sat in my cupboard long after the food was all eaten, a reminder of the strange event.
I never heard who the delivery was meant for, no one visited demanding it back. And the delivery driver was one among many. I doubted I'd recognise him if I did see him again. All I could conclude was that there were angels among us who provided what we needed when we were in despair.