A Special Delivery A snap fiction story

This snap fiction story (what’s that?) got its start from a photo I took when I heard a low buzz and saw some­thing hovering over­head.

A Special Delivery

She couldn’t believe it was happening again. Actually, she could. It had before, and it would again.

Nic was still talking, but Sayda had already tuned out. She kept thinking about what her sister had said yesterday: Love alone is never enough. She and Nic loved each other, that much she knew. But it hadn’t been enough.

The past weeks, strangely, had been okay. She’d ignored her old gripes and grum­bles, soldiering on in the hope that things would change. But hope comes with a price tag, and she didn’t know if there was enough between them to pay it. As they sat on the side­walk café outside Chez Marron, Sayda had felt that familiar empti­ness pouring back in. Some things cannot be redeemed.

She sighed.

In ten minutes, she’d have that dream job inter­view at the new tech startup across the street. They were going to revolutionize—excuse me, disrupt—the product delivery industry, turning track-and-trace into detect-and-deliver. Advanced stuff. She needed to clear her mind, focus.

Look, I have to go,” she said and left her unfin­ished soy latte on the table. She left the money under the cup.

No, wait.”

Not now Nic, really. Some other time. I’ll call you.”

She crossed the street to what she hoped would be her new work­place. The first two inter­views had gone great; Sayda was one of three remaining candi­dates.

As she arrived at the revolving doors, a small drone caught her eye. It dropped down and hovered near her. A small white package was attached to it. Sayda had to look twice, but it was true: the dangling label had her name on it. She glanced over at Nic across the street to give him an are-you-seeing-this look, but he was already buried in his phone again.

The drone landed right in front of her and Sayda removed the package. It was very small, palm-sized. She was sure this was some test, just before the inter­view. Or some­thing to throw her off, like those awful “What’s your biggest weak­ness” ques­tions. Should she open it? She decided to tuck it away in her tote for now and see what happened next.

A deep breath, and she threw herself into the revolving doors.

~

That evening, Sayda was telling her sister about the inter­view. She’d been calm and ener­gized, and hoped she had projected a semblance of confi­dence. Wasn’t that the best anyone could do? They’d call her tomorrow.

And then, after she’d already hung up, she suddenly remem­bered the drone. They had never asked about the package. What the hell?

Sayda dug into her bag. How could she have forgotten about it? White wrap­ping, no mark­ings, just the label.

She put down her wine glass, ripped off the paper and looked at the small cube in her hand. It almost looked like… When she opened it, she could already see the sparkle under the small printed card that read, “Marry me.”

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