The Demon’s Bride
When I open the door, the delivery man stands right here before my very own eyes with a very bright and big smile, saying out happily and composedly the words, “Good morning, Miss Mila Brooks.” I don’t want to be rude to him, but honestly speaking, I woke up in a sour, bitter mood today. With a feigned, insincere, and faked-up smile, I reply him: “Good morning. What can I do for you, sir?” He is standing there with a bunch of cutely and amazing-looking flowers. They must be fairly expensive and delicate too. Are they for me? I am wondering quietly and noiselessly. “I have got this special delivery for you,” he intones freely. “It is from a man who honestly and sincerely loves you. Where can I put them please, ma’am?” “Right here …