The Box, Chapter 2
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Naina walked back to her apartment for lunch. In her eagerness to get to the box, she forgot the intensity of the muggy August midday heat, which she usually avoided. The morning and evening walks were bad enough. Her phone indicated it was 91ºF with 94% humidity. To her, it felt like 111ºF. She saw heat waves rising from the asphalt.
Summers in Charleston were meant for the indoors. She didn’t understand how people ventured to the beach. She only liked the beach at Sullivan’s. It was quieter than the others. And she only went in the fall, nearing her birthday, when the heat wasn’t intense. And when there was no risk of getting caught in a hurricane.
When she got back to her apartment, she noticed the box was now placed squarely at the foot of her apartment door. She squatted down to read the label. Her name and address were listed, but there was no indication as to who sent it.
“Hi there,” a male voice said.
Naina jumped back, hitting the wall behind her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” A tall slim Indian man held out his hand. He wore white shorts and a dark blue polo shirt tucked in. His toes were perfectly groomed in his flip-flops. He looked as if he were in his mid-thirties.
