Belated is Better

A mysterious gift on the doorstep. 300-wds flash

Belated is Better

I opened the door on Boxing Day to get a breath of air. To my astonishment, I found a shoe box with a note on the lid.
“Sorry I missed you at Christmas. Hope you have a Happy New Year.” It wasn’t signed so I was almost afraid to touch the box. I found a stick and moved box away from the house. Once I felt like I was far enough away, I lifted the lid, using a fork in the branch. Inside among shredded paper, I found a bottle of wine.
“How thoughtful, whoever you are,” I said aloud.
“Isn’t it a little early to be hitting the sauce?” said a sarcastic voice. I looked up to find my back-door neighbor standing at the gap in her yard, so she could snoop over the fence. I make it a practice to ignore her, because what she is commenting on is usually none of her business.
I held up the bottle as if to toast her with it. In my head, I was holding it by the neck and beating her over the head! I walked back in and closed the door.
“Look what we got, honey!” I caroled.
“A pair of Adidas, what size? Will they fit me?” he said. When he read the note, he frowned. Lifting the lid, his eyes widened.
“Who’s your mystery lover,” he joked. I batted my eyelashes at him and cooed, “I only have eyes for you!” We burst out laughing. When we finished, we began speculating. The note was unsigned, but I noticed a line in teeny tiny print. My husband fetched our lighted magnifier. When we finally were able to read it, we burst out laughing again.
“Only our friends are crazy enough, but which one?” we wondered.