Page 16 of Volik

I bite my lower lip and look down at my left arm.

I wiggle my fingers.

Lift my hand and wave.

Flap both arms like chicken wings.

“Oookay.”

Shaking off whatever weird paralysis just happened, I exhale and reach my right hand out to open the box.

Except I don’t.

My arm doesn’t move.

The panic that had been subsiding flares back to life.

Reaching across myself, I use my left hand to grip my right wrist.

I can feel the hold. I have sensation in my arm. And I watch as I use my left hand to lift my right.

But when I set my right hand on top of the box, my fingers won’t move.

My pulse spikes, and I spin away from the box, turning my back to it.

The motion pulls my hand off the top of the box, and just like that, I can move my arm again.

Staring down at my hands, I flex my fingers.

“What…”

I turn my hands palm up, and tingles race up my arms.

“What the fuck?”

I shake my hands out, but the tingles continue to skitter through me, collecting in my stomach. Then dropping lower. To my newly slutty core.

I tip my head back. “What the fuck?”

Overwhelmed by everything, I cross to the couch and sit.

After taking three slow breaths, I lift my gaze and stare at the box.

I didn’t write on the side, so I don’t know what’s in it.

Maybe I accidentally packed something that doesn’t belong to me.

Maybe the box is haunted.

I lift my arm and give the stack of boxes the middle finger.

Hand works just fine now.

I narrow my eyes.

Maybe I’m haunted.

I slump back on the couch.