It is 8:40. At night.
I’m not expecting anyone.
The light is out on our porch and the peep hole helps me not at all.
“Who is it?” I call while scrambling to find my phone.
“The paperboy” comes the answer.
We don’t get the paper.
It is 8:30. At night. In September. It is dark.
“We don’t get the paper” I call through the door, dialing 9-1-1 on my phone.
“I have a free copy for you.” the male voice comes back.
“No thanks” I say, finger hovering over the “call” button.
“It’s free, and I’m in a contest for a trip.”
I stand still. I don’t move.
I’m very glad I remembered to close the blinds in the kitchen that face the front yard area.
“Ma’am? It’s a free paper.”
“But it’s free.”
I’m suddenly not frightened anymore, now I’m annoyed.
“No thanks means ‘no’ dude”
” Come on, ma’am, just open the door. It’s a free paper.”
“You do know how creepy this is right? I’m not opening the door.”
We both stand silent.
I count to five.
He is still out there.
I count to five again.Annoyance is turning back to fear.
“I think you need to walk away dude.” I have no idea why I have just said “dude” twice in five minutes. “This is creepy and weird and I’m going to call 911.”
Off he goes.
I double check all the locks and open a bag of Oreos.