Secret Admirer: a story in 60 seconds

"If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself." –George Orwell

“You have a package,” the doorman said to the young woman as she entered the building.

She walked over to the front desk. “Oh. That’s strange. I didn’t order anything.”

The doorman shrugged.

The woman took the package under her arm and headed towards the elevators. As she ascended the fifteen floors to her apartment, she couldn’t help but keep glancing at the parcel. When she got inside, she ran into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer. Eagerly, she sliced it open.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, holding a black satin jewelry box. She unlatched the tiny clasp and lifted the lid. A pair of gold teardrop earrings stared back at her. She pulled them out.

“These must cost a few thousand dollars,” she murmured.

The young woman immediately pulled the earrings free, put them on, and admired them silently as she stared into her bedside mirror.

The next day, when she returned home from work, the doorman stopped her again.

“Another package?” she asked as he handed her a cardboard box. It was thinner than the last one.

“Looks like it,” he answered flatly.

Back in her apartment, she quickly cut through the packaging, opened the box, and, once again, found a dazzling piece of jewelry twinkling back at her: a thin gold necklace with a solitary ruby—her birthstone—dangling underneath it. This must be a prank, she told herself.

A third package arrived that following evening. Now, the woman’s nervous excitement bordered on concern. She sat at the edge of her bed, hands trembling, and broke into the lumpy manilla envelope. Something soft was inside. She yanked at the fabric and pulled out the most remarkable red satin dress.

The woman didn’t wait. She quickly disrobed and pulled the garment over her head and hips. The fit was immaculate. The necklace and earrings went on next. Then she put her hair up and posed in front of the floor-length mirror.

“Maybe I have a secret admirer,” she murmured coquettishly.   

However, her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden hum of her cell phone. She didn’t recognize the number but answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is National Credit. Over the past few days, we’ve noticed some unusual charges linked to your account. Can you please confirm the following purchases?”

The operator listed three items.

“I don’t know anything about those,” the woman said, fingering the necklace. “Do you think my card was stolen?”

“Most likely,” the operator replied. “We’re going to put a hold on your account and send you a new card immediately.”

“And will I be refunded?”

“Yes, pending an investigation.”

“I feel so violated,” she whispered.

“We’ll do what we can to rectify the situation,” the operator reassured her. “Thank you for being a customer at National Credit.”

“And thank you for being so vigilant,” the woman added. “I guess I have to be more careful…”

“Absolutely,” the operator replied. “Can’t trust anyone these days, especially with credit cards. Heck, I can barely trust myself.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the woman murmured before saying goodnight and hanging up the phone.  

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