Boxes

There were many boxes in the hallway. Boxes labeled Kitchen, Books, Leather, and Random Stuff! I wondered how these boxes ended up in the hallway. The boxes had to come up a flight of steps. The boxes had to be set down and rearranged. But I didn't hear a single noise. Then, I wondered if the boxes had come in the middle of the night. Finally, I wondered who owned all the boxes in the hallway.

I left my apartment door open so that if someone came up the steps and picked up a box, I could say, "Hello, how do you do? I'm Curt G. Jimenez. Nice to meet you." I left my apartment door open so that I could say, "Do you need any help?" I left my apartment door open so that if I saw someone taking a box from the hallway, wearing a mask, I could say, "Stop! That's not your box, is it?"

Regrette and Warden poked their heads into the hallway, but lost interest and tussled in the living room for a bit, before moving into the bedroom. I decided that I would make a butter for whoever owned all the boxes.

A nice, simple butter.

I went to the grocery store and picked up heavy whipping cream and a bunch of chives. I climbed the stairs to the second floor and noticed that many boxes were gone. The door at the end of the hallway clicked shut! I set the heavy whipping cream and chives on my kitchen counter and walked to the door at the end of the hallway. I knocked. No one answered. I knocked again. "Hello," I said. "Hello, I'm Curt G. Jimenez. Your neighbor, I guess." I put my ear against the door and listened. Nothing. "Okay," I said, "Bye."

For fun. Noise. Caution. These were boxes were small cardboard squares. Stacked one on top the other.