A reward for me finally stepping out of my comfort zone.
These slippers are my first independent purchase, my first delivery, my first step toward engaging with the world beyondmy mountain. Before yesterday, everything I owned had either been crafted by my own hands or personally brought to me by Celeste.
But now I have June to deliver the world to me.
I continue along into the kitchen, intending to make yet another sad attempt at making coffee. One ought to know how to make such a beverage if one hopes to impress human females. At least, that is what my research tells me.
I glance across at my living room, where my laptop sits closed on the coffee table next to my TV remote, all evidence of last night’s research session.
While I had ensured the contractors made me a proper kitchen with all the amenities, I’d be lying if I said I used it much. The webs throughout my property provide more than adequate food, but Celeste still brings me fresh ingredients in hopes that I explore eating more civilized cuisine.
It seems my fuzzy little friend might get her wish…
Speaking of the devil, the sound of the back entrance opening interrupts my internal monologue. Only one person has access to that door, and she always arrives at exactly the same time for our weekly meeting.
“Riven?” Celeste’s voice carries that particular breathless quality it gets when she’s been flying too long in daylight. “Please tell me you have the curtains closed. I think I’m getting a migraine from all this horrible sunshine.”
“The curtains are open,” I call back, because I’m feeling magnanimous this morning. “Fresh air and natural light are beneficial for mood regulation.”
“Fresh air is a conspiracy by morning people,” she mutters, appearing in the kitchen doorway like a disgruntled shadow. My mothman friend is wearing her usual ensemble: oversized sunglasses, an enormous hoodie that makes her look like a particularly gothic marshmallow, and her proboscis is curled tightly against her face as she clutches what I assume is her usual horrifically sugary nectar and coffee concoction.
Celeste is naturally cute in that mousy, easily startled way that makes humans want to protect her, so her transition into society after the Great Unveiling wasn’t as harsh for her as some others. She has soft brown and white fuzz covering her segmented body, delicate features that belong on a porcelain doll, and black eyes that take up half her face when she’s not hiding behind sunglasses.
Despite our immense differences, she’s an extremely competent businessperson, which is why our partnership has lasted so long despite her tendency to shed wing scales all over my silk.
She settles onto one of the kitchen stools with a grateful sigh. Her proboscis unfurls slightly to test the air before she reaches across the table for her weekly shipping manifest. But then she freezes, and her antennae twitch curiously.
“Riven,” she says slowly. “Are those… slippers?”
I look down at my feet, where the faux-fur monstrosities are indeed decorating my usually bare appendages. “They are slippers, yes.”
“Pastel pink fuzzy slippers,” she continues, as if I might have missed this detail. “With little hearts embroidered on them!”
“The product description specified ‘premium comfort styling with whimsical aesthetic accents,’” I inform her with perfect dignity. “The customer reviews were quite favorable, and I find myself in agreement with them.”
Celeste stares at me for a long moment, then slowly removes her sunglasses to get a better look.
Her enormous compound eyes shimmer with something approaching shock. She knows every single item in my home, as she has been personally bringing me everything I’ve needed for the past twenty years of our friendship.
“You bought them online,” she says, and I can practically see her mind working as her proboscis unfurls completely in surprise. “Which means someone had to deliver them. Someone came onto your property.” Her voice gets progressively higher with each revelation. “Someone got past your security webs. Someone who isn’t me.”
Her wings start shimmering with agitation, sending wing scales everywhere, a sure sign she’s getting flustered. But she is correct. I’ve never allowed another soul near this place after I had it built.
She’s been my only connection to the outside world, my sole business partner, my one friend. The implications of someone else accessing my domain are clearly overwhelming her systematic understanding of my habits.
“Her name is June,” I say, because watching Celeste work herself into a panic flutter isn’t particularly amusing this early in the morning. “She works for Hartwell Delivery.”
“June,” Celeste repeats faintly, sinking onto the stool like her lower legs have given out. “A delivery driver. Got past your webs. And you didn’t… eat her?”
I give her a sharp look. “I am not a common house spider, dust bunny. I don’t eat people.”
“You know what I meant!” Her upper arms wave frantically while her lower ones steady her on the stool. “You have trust issues! Massive ones! You haven’t let anyone but me within five miles of this place since you built it! And now there’s some random human woman who just… what, walked up and rang the doorbell?”
“She walked into my web, actually.” I begin preparing the coffee, partly because I need the caffeine and partly because Celeste’s increasing excitement is making me nervous. “Quite thoroughly caught. Displayed beautifully, if I say so myself.”
The silence that follows is so complete I can hear her heart hammering from across the kitchen. Her proboscis has curled so tightly against her face it’s practically hidden, and she’s staring at me like I’ve just confessed to murder.
“You caught a delivery driver in your web,” she says slowly, wings trembling. “A human delivery driver. Named June.”
