Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
2015 Prompt Responses - 7. Prompt 393 - The Gifts
I opened the door to my mail slot and pulled out a handful of junk mail, plus a small, wrapped box. I smiled the entire time I walked to my dorm room, wondering what my latest present was. Starting last week, February first to be exact, I had received a small trinket in my mailbox every day. I wondered who could possibly be sending them. I was hopelessly single, with no prospects on the horizon. This was my first semester at college and I hadn’t made very many friends yet. My roommate was a partier who I doubted would last past the semester. I didn’t have anything in common with him. Luckily he spent most of his time away from our room.
As I put my key in my door, I saw movement at the end of the hallway. It was the guy who lived in the room at the end of the hall. He darted into his room after glancing at me. I didn’t know him very well. He pretty much kept to himself, kind of like I did. I think his name was Jordan. He was in a few of my classes, but we had never interacted beyond the initial dorm meeting at the beginning of the semester. He was adorable, but seemed painfully shy.
I entered my room, threw the junk mail on my desk, and plopped down on my bed. I ripped the paper off the present, revealing a chocolate heart and a note. This was the first time I had received any sort of correspondence from my mystery benefactor. I opened the note to read a date, time, and place. February 14th, 7:00 pm, the Red Mill Inn. There was a picture of a single red rose underneath the writing.
The Red Mill Inn was a local restaurant known for their steak and seafood. It wasn’t cheap, but it was worth every penny. I bit into the chocolate heart and discovered that it was actually a peanut butter cup. My eyes rolled back into my head as I savored the smooth silkiness of my favorite flavor combination. This was quality stuff. I placed the note on my desk with the other trinkets I had received over the past nine days.
The person sending the gifts somehow knew my likes, or else they were a good guesser. So far I had received the latest CD by my favorite blues artist, a little teddy bear, a book by my favorite author, gift cards to Amazon and our local coffee shop, and a couple candy bars. This was either the most romantic thing to ever happen to me, or else the creepiest.
I needed to decide if I was going to go that restaurant on Valentine’s Day. I was dying to know who was sending me all these gifts, but at the same time was terrified to find out. I just hoped it wasn’t a girl; although I wasn’t out so that diminished the chances of it being a guy significantly. I sighed, clutching the little teddy bear. After all the effort this person went through, I didn’t have it in me to stand them up.
*****
I spent Saturday picking out an outfit for my date that night. I settled on a pair of khakis with a button-down shirt and a nice sweater. I styled my hair to the best of my ability, but it was an unruly mop to begin with and resisted my efforts to tame it. I had continued to receive gifts every day, culminating with a single red rose left in my mailbox that morning.
I carried the rose as I nervously entered the restaurant. I had no idea who was waiting for me. Not even a single guess. The maître d’ smiled when I gave him my name. “Right this way, sir.”
He led me to the back of the restaurant to a table in front of a stone fireplace. A fire blazed in the hearth and it was easily the best table in the crowded establishment. I looked at the table’s single occupant and smiled shyly as I sat down opposite him. He held a single red rose in his trembling hands.
“Hi Jordan.”
“Hi Charlie.”
- 22
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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