An Order of Imps

I am a designer by trade, but a writer by heart. Much of this site will be writing both about design and some other stuff. This is my first fiction post.
An Order of Imps
Autocorrect changed a text from my wife to something fun—Imo’s is a local pizza chain.

The box arrived today. I have been waiting three weeks for this moment.

It started as I was reading a magazine in Dr. Marcus’ office, an article about the plight of migratory frogs in New Zealand. A woman burst through the door leading to the examination rooms and startled me, making me drop the magazine. Her face was streaked with tears, her make-up like a watercolor painting in a rainstorm. The receptionist yelled something after her about making another appointment, but the woman ran past and slammed the door to the office behind her.

A few moments later I realized I was still staring at the closed door, some meaningful thought must have been in my head, but even then I could not place my finger on what is was.

I blinked and bent down to retrieve the magazine which had flipped away from the story about the frogs. It lay on the floor fanned open, pages bent under. I picked it up glancing once more at the door. What had I been thinking about?

I placed the magazine in my lap and looked down to try and find my place in the article again. As I reached for the corner to turn the page a word caught my eye: “imps.”Then another word: “box.” Then “assorted,” “order,” and “call now!” followed.

The receptionist called my name. I looked up, glassy-eyed. She called my name again.

I stood to follow and as she turned her back I tore out the page and stuffed it into my pocket.

Later that night I stared at a glass of vodka on the coffee table. No juice tonight, just the vodka—a full glass. I shifted on the couch and heard a crinkling sound. I arched my back, squeezed my hand into my pocket, and retrieved the wrinkled page from the magazine.

The picture was grainy and dark, but the headline was as clear as could be. “Order your box of assorted imps today!”The word imps was in red with a red tail swirling under it, an arrowhead point at the end. I called right then and began my wait thinking, “I don’t know how to tell you this, Dr. Marcus, but I have some bad news.”

The box arrived today. I have been waiting three weeks for this moment.

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