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You& #39;ve been talking to Chantelle for almost two months now. Despite the few things you don& #39;t like about her, it& #39;s just one particular issue that you find very hard to overlook: she doesn& #39;t know how to dress.
I mean,
I mean,
not to bash her or be an asshole but, how can you be called Chantelle and not know how to dress? Doesn& #39;t it come with the name or something? Her sense of fashion/style is exactly why you& #39;ve been out on dates only twice. It& #39;s either all over the place or not there at all.
Regardless, she& #39;s a very sweet person. Today being your birthday, she wants to spend time with you in the evening at a vibrant restaurant and have karaoke later at a popular pub. It& #39;s a special day so yeah, why not?
At 5pm you receive a text from her:
"I have a surprise package for you, it& #39;ll arrive in 30 minutes
https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v2/... draggable="false" alt="🌚" title="New moon with face" aria-label="Emoji: New moon with face">"
You start grinning like an idiot out of excitement. You don& #39;t even care how she will turn up today, nothing will ruin it. You psyche yourself.
"I have a surprise package for you, it& #39;ll arrive in 30 minutes
You start grinning like an idiot out of excitement. You don& #39;t even care how she will turn up today, nothing will ruin it. You psyche yourself.
For the next 30 minutes you bombard her with guesses. "Is it a cake?" "Or it& #39;s you https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v2/... draggable="false" alt="😈" title="Smiling face with horns" aria-label="Emoji: Smiling face with horns">" "Oh wait you& #39;re bringing your cake https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v2/... draggable="false" alt="💀" title="Skull" aria-label="Emoji: Skull">"
She laughs at your guesses. "You& #39;ll love it. I know it& #39;ll look good on you. See you at 7."
On me? You break a cold sweat.
She laughs at your guesses. "You& #39;ll love it. I know it& #39;ll look good on you. See you at 7."
On me? You break a cold sweat.
You don& #39;t get to fully process it, the doorbell rings. You rush to gate to find a delivery guy on a motor. He confirms your details, hands you a wrapped package and zooms off. You cradle the package in your arms like a newborn baby and head back inside.
You unwrap the package to find a white nondescript box: no markings, no branding, nothing. You open it to find something that looks like it should be called sneakers - an all-black camboo.
Chantelle calls right then. You blink hardly twice to stop the tears that have started forming in your eyes. She doesn& #39;t hear the excitement in your voice when you pick up the phone and asks if the package has arrived yet.
