Dr. NoSleep

I'm glad to hear that, son.

He put his hat back on, followed by replacing his service weapon back in its holster.

It's good that we came to an understanding about this when we could.

And remember, every day is a gift.

About two days after my encounter with the police officer was when I received the package.

To this day, I have no idea who delivered it or how they got my address.

As I went downstairs to see what it was, I noticed out of the corner of my eye a car speeding off down the street.

Maybe it had nothing to do with anything.

Probably one of those guys who doesn't know what a residential speed limit is.

But the way it peeled out heading away from my house seemed strange.

What I found lying against my door was a box.

Well, it wasn't really a box.

More along the lines of someone binding a bunch of stuff together with packing tape and wrapping it in brown paper until it looked like a misshapen basketball.

Written in black marker across the front was my name, although they misspelled my last name.

Picking the package up, I noticed that it wasn't heavy so much as it was awkward.

Whoever had put it together obviously didn't care about making it look nice so much as they wanted to make sure everything was kept together.

I brought it into my house, set it down on my coffee table, and cut it open with a knife.

out spilled two envelopes, one larger than the rest like you'd use for sending paperwork and the other an ordinary letter alongside a VHS tape clumsily secured in bubble wrap.

The letter was postmarked from somewhere out of Kansas City, though it didn't give a name or return address.

All that was written on it in rather shaky handwriting was my full first and last name and my home address.