Texts • DreamNotFound

package

12/7/20

George rolled out of bed, the same routine as always; bathroom, kitchen, desk. He yawned and glanced at his clock to check the time.

4 pm

He grimaced.

His sleep schedule had slowly gotten worse over the past few days, just after he had finally gotten it straight, weeks before. He tried to keep his sleep schedule in relation to his friends, but lately, it had been slipping.

After successfully making a trip to and from the toilet, he brushed his teeth and checked his phone. George thumbed, through endless Twitter mentions and unimportant discord notifications. His email was sure to be overflowing, as he hadn't checked it in ages.

Knowing his mom would probably be downstairs, busing herself with her next Facebook post, sipping her home-brewed iced tea, or even watching a movie on the couch, he decided to embark on his journey down the stairs.

"Mum?"

No response.

Maybe she was out?

George left the last step and turned into the kitchen, eyeing the bright blue note waiting at the table for him. He picked it up. It read.

I went to get groceries.
Text me before 4 pm if u need anything <3

Well, it was too late for that.

He set the note back down and walked over to the fridge. He was low on groceries...

Maybe if he texted her now, he could catch her in time. George pulled out his phone.

> Can u get me some eggs and those pre-packed sandwiches I usually get?

He waited. No response.

Oh well.

George slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked back up at the fridge, doors still ajar from his forgetfulness. He could eat an old steak burrito, pasta from his mom's cooking 2 nights ago, or the leftovers from the meal Dream had door-dashed him the night before.

His choice was obvious.

Grabbing the expensive-looking leftover box from the fridge, he decided on a warm cup of tea to go with his meal. George turned to his electric kettle and grabbed a fork from the left drawer, the silverware rattling as he closed the compartment. George leaned against the counter with his back, opened the box, stabbed his fork in, and brought a bite of the food to his promptly awaiting mouth.

The was a shuffling at the door.

What was it?

Who was it?

He turned around, mouth full of food, and looked out the window to his porch. He probably looked ridiculous.

The postman had left a box on the ground, along with his normal pile of mail, in his open-faced mailbox.

George hadn't ordered anything recently..? What could it possibly be?

He set the food down and finished chewing as he walked over to the door. George looked out the window at the package again, his eyebrows knit, mouth full, still chewing. He swallowed and reached for the door handle.

Outside, the package waited for him, sitting like a lazy cat on a warm summer eve. George retrieved the mail first, and then bent down and looked at the label on the mysterious brown box. It read:

DreamBranding.com
2200 Winter Springs
Ste# 106-234
Oviedo FL 32765

What? George knew he hadn't ordered merch, but he had suspicions of who may have...