I sign.
He tears off a slip and hands it to me, then both of them are back in the truck in under thirty seconds.
The truck reverses down my dirt road.
I’m left standing alone in my yard holding a receipt for a crate the size of a commercial refrigerator.
I go inside.
I walk around it once.
Up close, the logo stamped on the side is even less recognizable—two overlapping spirals, or maybe a wave. It looks hand drawn.
And below that:Handle with care. This side up. Do not expose to direct sunlight before activation.
Direct sunlight.
I ordered a vibrator.
Didn’tI?
I get the crowbar from the hook by the door—the one I keep for prying open bulk supply shipments—and weigh it in my hand. The steel is cool against my palm. My back is already sending a preemptive complaint about whatever leverage work is about to happen, but I ignore it like I always do.
I wedge the flat end of the crowbar under the nearest steel band and push.
The band groans.
My shoulder makes a sound like someone stepping on a bag of chips, and a bright wire of pain runs through my neck, which is my body’s way of sayingremember me? The thing you’ve been ignoring the past couple of years?
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, and push harder.
The first band snaps free with a metallic ping.
I move to the second one.
This one’s tighter, seated in a groove that’s been routed into the wood itself, andI have to reposition the crowbar twice before I find the right angle.
The wood smells like something—cedar, maybe, but sweeter, with a resinous undertone.
It reminds me of the balsam fir absolute I splurged on last winter for a limited holiday line that sold exactly eleven units.
Second band off.
Third band off.
Sweat beads across my forehead, mixing with the soap dust that has settled into my hairline. But eventually, finally, the bands are done away with, and now the front panel is being held in place by nothing more than habit.
I give it a little pull, and the panel lists, heavier than I expected. I scramble backward and let gravity send it crashing to the floor.
Inside the crate, nested in a custom-molded cradle of dark foam, is the object I purchased.
It’s big.
That’s the first thing I notice.
The second thing I notice is that it’s shaped like a person.
Sort of.
