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“Fuck it,” I muttered as I start to violently punch numbers into my cell phone. I had been trying for the last couple of hours that I didn’t need to call the number. I had nothing to prove to anyone. I was a strong, independent-
“Hello and thank you for calling-” greeted the voice on the other end of the line. I yipped and pressed the disconnect button before she could get the rest of the sentence out.
I was such a wuss sometimes.
After a few moments of silently chastising myself, I looked down at the computer screen. Maybe there was an option to place an “order” online. This is the 21st century after all. If you can’t order it online, it probably doesn’t exist yet.
I already knew what I wanted but lacked the chutzpah to follow through. Perhaps if I don’t have to interact with anyone directly until delivery I could-
Ah-hah! I thought to myself as I saw the option on the bottom of the screen to purchase online. I clicked on it, knowing I could always back out before entering my credit card information.
A new page loaded and it asked a number of standard questions. From the date of the delivery to how long the service will be needed, I answered them all, knowing it all by heart. I didn’t need to refer to the cream and gold slip of paper to the right of my laptop at all.
I completed the questionnaire and put my Mastercard information into the correct boxes. Hesitating for only a brief second, I press the “submit order” button before I can gather my wits. It brought me to a new screen that I can print up. Evidence of some sort I suppose.
No thank you, I think to myself as I press the X on the top right corner of the browser.
Besides, they always send you some incriminating email that you forget to delete and can later peruse at your own leisure.
A notification sounds on my phone signifies that I have received the expected email.
I almost ignore it, afraid of seeing the printed verification of my purchase. After a moment, I convince myself to open it anyway. I might as well read it and see if there are further instructions or information they may need.
Shit, maybe it’s even a letter regretting to inform me that due to the sad state of affairs that is my life, no one within 100 square miles is available with the delivery on that particular night. That would on par with my luck as of late.
I opened the email to see that it is actually a letter confirming the availability of the package on the requested night.
I took in a shallow breath that is almost a shudder and think to myself, just what the fuck have I done?