The box had arrived at the door, resting atop a black doormat. It was a beaten, brown cardboard box, thick white straps of plastic wrapped around the ends to keep it all together. At the bottom and around the corners, dark spots had formed where water had soaked in.
Inside the home, no one was there to answer. Though the day's sun had risen high, it was obscured by dense cloud cover and thick, white snow drifts that surrounded the house on all sides, exposing only the edges of a snow-covered roof.
The bathroom door opened, swinging and whining softly. A small, steamy haze exited through the small opening in the door, dissipating quickly in the air. The light obscured the head of the figure peeking out, shining bright through an incomprehensible haze that came behind her. A fan in the bathroom gently whirred, eliminating the dense moisture and cooling the heated space. As the figure slid her head through the space, staring out from behind the door that she had opened just wide enough to stick her head out of.
Narrowing her eyes in confusion, Celosia stared out, a slicked lock of purple hair falling aside from where it had been slicked back in the shower. Her teeth ground silently, curious at the sound she had heard in the first place.
Her head slid back behind the door and she closed it softly. A few gentle thumps came from behind the door, the squeal of metal rings ringing out as she shut the shower curtain. Moments later, she opened the door again, letting the hinges whine as she stepped out with a padded, muffled footfall, walking out in pale pastel green slippers and a matching green bathrobe, the long ends of the robe that reached down to her ankles swaying silently as she walked.
As she passed through the small bathroom, passing by tiny sink in the corner, Celosia grabbed a hand towel that hung off a small towel rack, flipping it inside out and drying her hair as she walked. She stood at the entrance of the bathroom, gazing out into the living room through tired eyes. Still seeing nothing out of the ordinary the living room, she finished running the towel over her hair, slicking her hair back with her palm, then stepping back towards the sink and draping the towel over the rack again.
All around Celosia as she walked through the living room and down the small hall to the kitchen, the windows were filled with snow pressed the glass panes, thickly packed and layered with dense frozen sheets of gray.
At the front door, where Celosia stood inches from, she contemplated the handle, knowing that someone very well could be on the other side. After all, it was what she swore she had heard, someone at the door ringing a bell. The whole house was silent, not a single voice or clattering echo coming through the walls. Over her shoulder, where she looked briefly to the table beside her, her eyes were seemingly transfixed on a single object; a curved piece of chrome-coated metal, resting at the center apex of the curved side. Beneath, a center piece of purple-tinted glass running through the center. As Celosia found herself hesitating before the door, she took a step back, bringing herself beside the table and picking up the visor, turning it over silently in her hands. Beneath the rubber seals and the foam piece around the very edge of the visor, Celosia could see a crack in the glass display of the visor. She cursed under her breath and chided herself, knowing she very well could've used the filters on her visor to get herself out of the current situation.
Setting the visor back down, Celosia's hand glided along the surface of the table, silently reaching for a Pokeball that had rolled beside the salt shakers in the center of the table. As she picked it up, clutching it like life support, Celosia took soft and silent steps towards the door.
After a hesitant moment, Celosia opened the door quickly, putting herself in the newly opened space with her Pokeball ready to be flung.
There was nothing.
Celosia had realized the defensive pose she had just put herself in, and eased up. She took a moment, putting the Pokeball back on the table and let it roll lazily towards the salt shaker where it had been moments ago.
As she walked towards the open door, Celosia saw the box, resting at the foot of the door, soaked and hammered. Squatting down in front of it, at the cusp of the entrance where the frigid winds blew in and chilled her in what little coverings she had, she gazed down at the packaging. The brown cardboard of the box looked as though it had been through a lot; the edges were frayed and torn slightly, covered in thick strips of masking tape and held together in many different layers. The address on it was correct and at the right place, but there was no return address.
Grasping the plastic straps that had been wrapped around the whole of the box, Celosia lifted it like a handle. There was only meager weight to it, and she pulled it into the house with ease, shutting the door.
Bryony snoozed on the couch silently, lounging on her side with her head resting on her folded up red uniform jacket. Her red boots rested upright beside her, her red pants still on with her half-buttoned white dress shirt. Her face was half buried in the jacket, her gently twinkling visor still on.
With a deep maroon blanket folded in her arms, Celosia let the bottom half of the blanket spill out, a whoosh of air catching the blanket as she spread it in the dimly lit living room, draping it over Celosia's body. Silently, listening to the gentle snoring of her friend, Celosia ran her fingers through Bryony's hair, tousling it gently and stroking it with care, before smoothing it out.
The beaten cardboard box rested in the center of the floor, before a dead fireplace and a powered-off TV. The white plastic straps that surrounded the box had been cut away, revealing the package in its weathered, mildly soaked glory. As Celosia kneeled beside it, folding her legs beneath her bathrobe, Celosia took a box cutter from inside her robe, opening the lid of the cardboard box with a single swipe, tearing with ease through the packaging.
As the top of the box came off, packing peanuts spilling out and more being tossed aside as Celosia knocked them out of the box, her eyes lit up. A thin clear sheet of thinly cut foam lifted and exposed the white box beneath. Her expression turned from enthrallment to confusion.
It was a rectangular white box, a new sheen to the matted paper surface. The minimalist gray words bore the name 'Wii'.