White Powder

You should have seen me when the drone arrived and dropped the package, I was jumping up and down like an excited 3-year-old!

I had woken up feeling energised. Today my new phone would arrive! I had been tracking it for weeks.

I won it in a trivia when the company announced a new flagship. I had held on to my old phone for years. The soaring inflation could not allow me to afford a new one. This win was a huge blessing. 

I had been watching my door all morning in anticipation. 

I rushed and picked up the box as soon as it arrived. I was puzzled. It seemed bigger and heavier than I had anticipated. Were the new phones that heavy? It also had no address on it. Neither of the sender nor receiver. Was this for security purposes? I took it in and opened it with a pair of scissors. 

What was this? 

In there, there was no phone. Only some ziplock bags with a white powder in them. The inside of the box was also shiny as though it had been handled by oil hands. It also smelt like french fries and chicken. 

I pulled a chair and sat down to ponder on this. What was this white powder? Drugs? 

It had only been a few minutes when I heard a racket outside my door. I took the box and quickly threw it under my couch. I then went to open the door. 

I had barely touched the doorknob when two large men wearing masks busted in. They smelt like french fries and chicken. 

"Where is the box!?" they were shouting. 

I was shaking. I pointed to the table. 

I then felt a huge slap across my face. 

"Where is the package?" came a louder question. 

I was stuttering. I wasn't thinking clearly. It seemed in the situation I had forgotten where it was. 

One of the guys pulled out a gun and placed it on my head. 

"I will ask one last time. Where is the package?" 

He turned the gun and shot at my television. A gaping hole was left at the centre. I felt weak. My knees were failing. I wanted to point to my couch but I couldn't find the strength. My voice was failing too.  

I must have been looking at the couch because the other guy went in its direction. He searched around it, knelt and looked below it. He then pulled out the now open box. 

He put it on the table and inspected it. Satisfied that all its contents were still there he closed the flaps and nodded to the other guy who was now holding my shoulder hard. 

They both started to walk out. I was saying a silent prayer relieved that this ordeal would soon be over. 

Suddenly, the guy with the gun came back to where I stood. He slowly placed his finger on his mouth signifying me to keep my mouth shut. I was too shaken to respond. 

He then pressed my shoulder hard, shook it and with one large push threw me on the wall. That really hurt. 

The two then left. 

I am currently at my doctor's. I'm telling her that I fell while fixing a bulb at home. 

I am too shaken to even think about that mysterious package that arrived at my door this morning. But I am trying to piece it all together.  

Who were those guys? What was in that package? And why did it smell like fries and chicken? 

I have come to a conclusion. All this can only mean one thing. The new food delivery joint that recently opened at the corner is a drug cartel masquerading as a restaurant. They are using drones to deliver packages. The one that came to my door must have been by error. 

As I cannot afford to move at the moment, I am going to keep my mouth shut. The bullet hole on my television is a constant reminder. 

My doctor gave me two weeks to rest. 

In my pain, I am not even excited about my new phone that arrived later that day.