As Uncle Kent lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he heard a faint knock on the door. He sighed and rolled over, not feeling too well to answer the door, but the knocking continued with whosoever it was persistent, as it kept growing louder and more insistent.
He finally decided to answer the door, even though his body ached with every movement —it wasn't even up to twelve hours since he was put away from the life monitor. When he opened the door, he saw a package on the doorstep. He frowned and looked around, but there was no one in sight, his face was squeezed into a displeased expression.
He reached down and picked up the package and returned to his sickbed, turning it over in his hands. It was addressed to him, and it was sealed tight.
Uncle Kent was puzzled and confused
