All In A Day (Eve)

(Prompt: a mystery parcel arrives with something in it which changes your life)

The road wound lazily from Conshohocken to Phoenixville through short hills that were a bedazzling shade of emerald green at this time of year. This breathtakingly beautiful landscape somehow managed to maintain some of its verdant unrestraint even though farmers had tried to tame the terrain for a couple of hundred years.

Brad’s mail run started at Valley Forge, meandered along the very same ridge where George Washington’s Continental Army bivouacked, and finished up in charming Chester County, known for its delightful covered bridges and historical taverns.

What a great job, thought the mailman, as his compact red van smoothed out another bend in the road. Well, not so terrific in the winter months when snowdrifts could finish up10 feet high, the icy road was undriveable and it was 15 below outside. But today was a near-perfect sunny summer day.

Brad was feeling particularly cruisey, listening to his iPod and singing along with his favorite rapper, Drake: It’s more than just a mission
, Hey, Hey, Hey,
 you hear but you don’t listen. 
Hey, Hey, Hey, 
You better pay attention. 
Hey, Hey, Hey. 
And get what you been missing. He was putting himself in a fine hot mood for Cherel of Number 363 R.F.D.

So far, Brad had made points with the object of his fantasy by being very polite and very competent. He could tell that the older woman (at least 5-plus years on him, he guessed) had her eyes on him. One sweltering mid-morning while delivering a package, Brad was offered a cool glass of lemonade, which he of course politely accepted. On that occasion, Cherel didn’t invite him in, but he could tell she wanted to.

Brad pulled over and parked at the top of the hidden driveway. The van’s glove compartment was fitted like a mini grooming salon - spray mouth freshener, hair product, comb and facial moisturizer. Just a quick flick of the comb would do today, as he impatiently jumped out of the vehicle. He sauntered along to the front porch, noticing that Cherel had peeked at him through the closed living room venetians.

He didn’t have time to knock as Cherel swung open the big oak door straightaway, and he was happy to see she stood there smiling and baby-less.

“Parcel delivery for you, Mrs. Robinson,” Brad said in his most professional voice. “I’ll need you to sign for it.

“And, oh, I was wondering if I might just get to use your bathroom before I get on the road again. It’s sort of an emergency.” He grinned sort of bashfully.

As Brad stepped into Cherel’s home, he registered two green-light items: (1) Cherel firmly closed the door behind him, and (2) she was still wearing her bathrobe.

Brad grinned unabashedly.