Dane

On March 8th, you were alone. No boyfriend, no male friends to congratulate you. All your friends were out, and you didn't celebrate with them. There was also a corporate party at work, but it was boring.

I decided to celebrate myself. I bought a bottle of wine, some snacks, put on a cheesy romantic movie, and started watching.

A sudden ringing of the doorbell pulled you out of your reverie. You looked at the time. It was already late.

You opened the door and saw the delivery man there. He was holding flowers and a box.

“You have a delivery,” the man said, handing you the flowers.

— I didn’t order anything.

The delivery guy checked the address and it matched. You were surprised, but took the package. You'll be on your way, I've already paid for it.

As you placed the flowers on the table, you saw a note there: "I hope you like the flowers and what's in the box. Love, Dane."

Dane? You don't know anyone with that name.

You examined the box. It was a regular parcel box with a sender's number written on it. You decided not to open it and to contact the sender. They must have gotten the address wrong.

"Hello. I received your package. You must have the wrong address," you said when he answered the phone.

The man asked for the address, but it was wrong and then he fell silent, sighing heavily.

"Sorry, I must have made a mistake. I meant to send it to my girlfriend... I hope you didn't open the box, there's something... ahem, personal in there."