Writing prompt #2 – A surprise package

I got some more answers to my writing prompt question. So here is writing prompt mini story number two.


 

Thank fuck it’s Friday, I think as I open the door to my apartment after the week of hell at work. Tax season is a bitch… I remember my dad complaining about it when I was a kid, but I didn’t get what he was so grumpy about. Well, I do now. I barely crash onto the living room couch, before I hear the telltale patter of paws against the tiles.

“Come here Benny” I say even I don’t have to, he’s already pushing me with his nose, his tail wagging wildly from side to side. “I know I’m late,” I tell him, as he calms down and sits, tilting his head looking at me with questioning eyes. “I had a horrible day.” I scratch him behind his ear. “What do you say, we go for a long walk?” Immediately he perks up, goes to the door, grabs his collar off the bench and brings it to me, his tail still wagging up a storm.

“Ok, ok… Gimme a minute.” I sigh and leave him waiting for me while I change into a jogging outfit, along with my well worn running shoes.

The 5k trail around the park, does wonders for my mood and for Benny too.

When we get home, there’s a package waiting by my door. Huh, that’s strange, I don’t remember ordering anything, I think as I bend to pick it up. No address, no postage. Even stranger. I glance around but don’t see anyone.

“Lily,” I read the name written on the package out loud. My first instinct is that the package has been delivered to the wrong place, but then I remember that one summer… That one boy… He called me Lily. I sigh and close my eyes; I can still see that look in his smoky blue eyes, as he reached out for me, sitting on his Harley, bad boy written all over him.

I carry the box inside, and lay it onto the coffee table. Benny just ignores my excitement, he heads for the water bowl before disappearing into the bedroom for a nap.

I rip the box open, and lift out the round, hard, red and white object. I turn it in my hands, it’s an open face helmet. A tingle goes through my spine, warming me from within. It has been years since I last rode. The last time was with him, that summer so many years ago. I always loved the thrill, the vibration of the powerful engine between my legs, my arms around his waist, my chin pressed against his back, as we sped down the road, ignoring the warnings and objections of our parents.

I put the helmet on, and feel all kinds of silly as I look at my image in the mirror. I look into the box for anything more, and my heart jumps to my throat as I see the handwritten note at the bottom of the box. Lily, I’ll pick you up at eight, let’s go cruising down memory lane. Rick.

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