Fiction by Brigita Orel
My thumbnail hurts from so much biting. He’s usually here by now. What’s taking so long?
There’s a noise outside. I peer through the crack in the curtain. It’s just the neighbour’s dog. Come on! It’s past eleven.
The doorbell rings then and my heart stutters. I fumble with the keys and it’s a good thing because if I opened the door right away, he’d know I’ve been waiting for him.
He smiles down at me and his soft eyes sparkle. He’s had his hair cut. I like it. I wonder if he’s noticed I curled mine.
“Sorry I’m late, had a flat tyre.” He grins. “Another package for you, Miss Appleby.” He holds out a book-sized box.
“It’s Alice,” I say, my voice cracking with nerves.
“Alice.”
I love the way his low voice makes my name sound glamorous as though I’m a film star not an archivist.
Confusion flickers across his features. He proffers the package to me again.
“Oh, right.” I grab it from him, heat rising up my neck. “Thank you.”
“Till next time.” I open my mouth to offer him refreshment, but he’s already descending the stairs, swinging his leg over his bicycle. He gives a short wave and he’s gone around the corner.
I go in and let the door slam behind me. I tear off the address label from the box. There’s some packaging paper in my drawer and I wrap the box so it’ll look different next time. I don’t want him to suspect anything. I write my address on it and leave it on the desk. I’ll take it to the post office after lunch. One of these days, when he’s not in a hurry, I’ll gather the courage to invite him in.
Brigita Orel’s work has been published in online and print magazines. Her picture book The Pirate Tree (Lantana Publishing, 2019) was Bank Street Best Children’s Book of the Year. She studied creative writing at Swansea University. Brigita lives in Slovenia where she works as a translator.
