Nathan woke to the sharp sound of the doorbell. He stretched slowly, lazily, reluctant to move. But the ringing was fast, insistent.
With a sigh, he dragged himself out of bed, bare-chested and in his shorts, and marched to the door. A personal delivery man stood there, name tag pinned to his uniform, holding a large black box in his hands.
“Mr. Nathan King?” The delivery man asked.
“Yes?”
The delivery man held the box out to him. “This is for you.”
Nathan gingerly took it, the sleep still clouding his vision. When the box had passed to his hands, the delivery man turned around and left, disappearing into the elevator.
Nathan stepped back into the house and shut the door, his eyes scanning the box for any inscription. There was none—just a small card attached to the front.
He tore
