Robert John Jenson

An Empty Box of Heaven

Doomsday doesn’t usually show up wrapped in brown paper, Astrid thought. Does it? She wasn’t sure how doomsday got around these days, but she figured it would want something a bit more flashy than a box in brown wrapping paper, tied up with twine. Honestly, who wraps packages like that anymore? She was certain the post office and other carriers would consider that undeliverable. Get all caught up in their machines, right? Nevertheless, there was a package on her tiny front porch, centered precisely between the wrought iron railings, her front door, and the first step.