A knock at the door awoke Samuel from his slumber. He swept the Sandman’s dust from his eyes and groggily kicked off the covers and removed himself from his warm bed.
There was another rap on the door. “Again with the knocking…” he thought as he made his way down the hall past a clock that he was pretty sure read “7:25,” though the ability to accurately read analog clocks had yet to return to him in his dozy haze. He immediately wondered who in the world would be at his door this early.
He yawned and reached for the door knob simultaneously, but was surprised to find that there wasn’t anyone there when he opened the door. Just a package. No address, no postage markings, no indication of who sent it or who delivered it, just a small, nondescript brown box with “For Sam” written in black sharpie on the top.
“Beautiful penmanship.” Samuel remarked to himself. Probably not the first thing most people would think when a mysterious package shows up at one’s door, but Samuel was odd like that.