WIP

It began with a gentle tapping on the front door of Lila’s home. At least it sounded like a gentle tapping, barely audible through the blare of the television. Lila ignored it at first, choosing to remain wrapped up in the duck down duvet, looking like a large pink marshmallow perched on the sofa with a head popping out of the top. She’d been off sick with flu for over a week (which had been particularly nasty at first, but had now reached the ‘milking it’ stage) and she was getting quite used to doing nothing what-so-ever. A break in the adverts revealed that the gentle tapping was in fact someone hammering against the door, the thud of fist against wood was gaining in speed and ferocity by the second. A reluctant arm emerged from a fold in the duvet and grabbed for the remote, muting the sound. The banging persisted. Lila sucked in a deep breath through snot-filled nostrils that made a rather disgusting squelching sound much like the noise of feet walking across sodden towels, then rolled to one side, poked her legs out and stood up, clutching the duvet to her chest as she headed towards the door.

Thump, thump, thump, the door was being pounded so hard she could see it rocking in the frame as she approached.
“Alright, I’m coming.” Lila yelled, at which point the thumping stopped. She flicked the lock and opened the door. A rush of freezing cold January morning air forced its way in, immediately making her cheeks tingle. She was greeted by the lovely view over the field across the road, covered in a snowy blanket, the dotted non-evergreen trees caked in a sprinkle of icing sugar. But whoever had been pounding at the door had disappeared. The only thing to be found on the doorstep was a large square package wrapped in plain brown paper with no post mark and no addressee.
“Couldn’t have waited another five seconds, hmm?” She called out to the absent delivery person. Then she noticed the distinct lack of footprints in the snow covered path leading out to the road. Lila leaned through the doorway and looked up and down the road. At eleven in the morning almost everyone was out at work or at school, not a car or pedestrian or dog being walked in sight. After a moment of aimless staring up and down the road the coldness of the air started to tickle her uncovered legs, so she bent down, scooped up the package and slammed the door shut.

Returning to the warmth and comfort of the sofa, she tucked her legs back into the marshmallow duvet shape and placed the box on the cushion to the side. The muted television continued to flash images of the Daytime Gossip Program hosts waffling on to one another about nothing in particular. Even if one had no talent for reading lips, one could probably decipher the inane babbling with ease.