The shelves are full of boxes. Rows of identical, brown cardboard boxes. They whisper to each other in the twilight of the storeroom. As I make my way along the ill-lit aisles, I can hear their hoarse, papery voices.
"Do you remember when ... ?"
"Here's the thing ... "
"... Stab and hate and ... "
I pause at one of the many intersections to orient myself. It takes a few minutes to work out which way I need to go. There are no catalogues here; no helpful indexes. The voices from the boxes ebb and flow around me.
"Hello."
This one takes me by surprise. The voice is strong, insistent, full of purpose. I look around me, trying to work out where it has come from. "Hello?" I say.
"Over here," the voice says. I take a tentative step. "That's right."
I run my hand along the shelves, my skin recoiling at the touch of cold metal, hoping that I can feel the vibrations.
"Cold," the voice says. "Colder." It fades into the background babble, so I walk the other way. "Warmer. Warmer. Hot-hot-hot-hot-hot!"
I grab the box from the shelf - it takes an unexpected effort to lift it from its place - and hold it up in the dirty, yellow light of the faded bulbs.
"Come on," the box says. "I'm what you've been looking for."
"Really?" I ask.
"Of course." The voices starts to wheedle. "I know it. You know it. Come on - what are you waiting for?"
I slide a fingernail under the tape that runs around the box's lid, breaking the seal, and glance inside. It's dark inside the box - almost too dark to see what's in there. And then - !
"Fuck!" I recoil, hurling the box away from me in fear and disgust.
Whatever is inside the box chuckles at me. "Can't blame me for trying, can you?"
The sound of laughter follows me as I walk away, back into the whispering.
