Changing Clothes - Part Two

"What is it?" I groan, reaching the door and unlocking it with one hand as I try to drain away the coffee in the other. "Do you know what time it..." I begin to ask, not sure myself but feeling like it was simply not the right hour for all this noise.

My words fall short however as my gaze falls to the source of the noise, my sleep encrusted eyes blinking rapidly as I take in the blurred shape of an unmarked and damaged box with a torn label.

The sturdy knee high cardboard box appears to be of a rather tough and high quality build, the multiple layers of corrugated material having cushion it through what must have been a terrible journey. Deeps gashes and cuts mar the sides, black marks from tires or some other rubber streak over the crumpled top.

Leaning down I quickly begin to look for a label, an address or sender, really anything to explain to me where this box had come from. A hint of a white sticker sits atop the box, one of the many cuts having caught the center and torn through the much of the information about both the sender and the receiver.

"I didn't order..." I mutter, my eyes darting over what I could make out on the label.

A partial street name, a bit of a post code, and a number that just so happened to match that of my apartment. I'm left scratching my head as I stand back up, my mind churning as I try to work out how they even delivered something like this with only a hint that the address was correct.

Glancing down the hallway I try to see if the delivery person was nearby, the low hum of the overhead florescent lights in the hallway being all I can hear and their flickering failing to show a single soul wandering the hall.

Sighing to myself I look down at the box again, shrugging a little as I lean over to pick it up. As I snake my fingers beneath the cardboard I'm immediately met with a palpable weight, the strong design of the box making sense as I feel the overwhelming mass of the densely packed items inside. I'm left more so dragging the box inside rather than lifting and carrying it, the heavy container flexing and bulging slightly as it strains to get over the lip of the door frame.

As I get it inside, barely beyond the doorway itself, the heavily torn and ripped wall of the box finally gives way. I'm forced to jump back as the contents spill out, a series of clean and pressed clothes wrapped in sealed plastic bags sliding out over each other with ease.

Looking down at the packages I quickly pull my door closed, locking it behind me as the thought of what this might look like hits my sleepy and foggy mind. Had I just tampered with someone's mail? It was an accident, but is that still a crime? Would they even believe me?

The thoughts swirl in my dulled brain as I kneel down, my body dropping to the hard wood floor as I begin to inspect the box and what contents had been disgorged in the hopes of finding some sort of idea as to where it was meant to have gone.

"Did someone order a bunch of..." I begin to mutter, finding myself pawing through plain and baggy white shirt and plain and baggy white shirt. 

They seem well made, at least for a basic cotton t-shirt, with seemingly comfortable elastic sleeves and neck to fit a variety of shapes and sizes. Twisting and turning the sealed plastic pouch they are store in I try to find some sort of indication as to where they were from, the lack of any sort of logo or branding beginning to confuse me.

On the back of the clear plastic I finally spot something. Not a brand, not a logo, but a set of instructions.

 

Free with Purchase

1 Per Customer

Use: Wear while changing to preserve original shape

Keep in safe place

 

Cocking an eyebrow I begin to check each of the plain shirts, finding the same wording on the back of each package. As I pull each on out another slips in to take it's place, the slippery plastic sheathes letting the items practically glide over one another.

"This wasn't an order" I muse, slowly forming a pile of the white shirts to the side as I pull more and more from the whole in the box. "Are these promotional items or..." I begin to mutter, only to pause as something new slides into view from under the shadow of the boxes lid.

My eyes are drawn immediately to the logo, the cursive and seemingly mercurial lettering designed to evoke some sense of transformation in the reader.

"Changing?" I whisper, grabbing the packet somewhat roughly as I bring it closer to inspect further.

The side with the logo, a large C with the remaining letters lining up beside it, lacks the same transparent nature of the white shirts. The plastic is opaque, a every light salmon pink that leaves the clothing inside a mere shadow on the other side.

Unlike the shirts, these packages seem far more bulky and oddly shaped. While the shirts were tightly and evenly packed, stacking and compressing perfectly atop one another, the item in my hands seems bulky and lumpy as the multiple items of clothing within sit in a more strained manner.

As I begin to turn the package over I find the salmon pink continuing to the sealed lip of the envelope, the only pop of color in the plastic as the rest shifts to acting like a clear window to the clothing and accessories inside.

The same cursive writing as the logo sits at the top, this time hand written in sharpie. I cock my eyebrow, glancing between the title and the clothing as I take in the...