Three objects sat upon the carpet in Cleo Porter’s living room: an apple, a human skull, and a package wrapped in red.
It was the last of these that had Cleo well and thoroughly vexed. She lay on her stomach, bare feet waving in the air behind her and chin digging into the back of her hand. Her belly was starting to get itchy from the carpet fibers poking through her shirt, but she just wriggled a bit to scratch it. She’d stare at the glossy box for another hour if she had to, until it either disappeared or made sense.