Excerpt of The Guy From The Internet by Birdie Song

But then today happened. I woke up to a message from my mum about not putting her takeaway containers in the dishwasher. Then at work, creepy Richard from IT stopped by first thing to ask if mail arrived for him. Mail never arrives that early in the day, and he bloody well knows it.

As he sauntered off, the GM of Marketing walked in, discovered her PA had chucked a sickie, and was very unimpressed. She tossed a dictaphone at me, curtly told me not to drop it, then walked away. I wasn’t even halfway through my morning coffee.

My hands shook as I picked up the stupid little device. Once the people waiting in the foyer got into the lift, I burst into tears. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. It was so embarrassing.

Jedda, my absolute angel, told our manager I’d just thrown up. Bless her, honestly. The team sent me home with a box of fancy tea from our secret stash, but not before Jed grilled me on whether I’d be okay in my apartment all by myself.

The truth was, I couldn’t wait to get home—away from everyone and everything. I didn’t think I’d be up for streaming tonight, but having something to focus on seems to have calmed me down.

Well, that and the package sitting next to my monitor.

I found it waiting in my mailbox when I got back to my apartment.

You know how something can happen, and suddenly all the crap you were dealing with—no matter how important it felt at the time—just vanishes into thin air? My day was reborn, thanks to this drab padded envelope, with its a French postmark and a Paris return address.

It’s hard to concentrate on drawing when that package is sitting right there, staring at me while I try to look directly into the webcam. Pretty sure the undo combo on my keyboard is starting to fade.

But I can’t open it yet. I want to wait for Rin to get home, to get online, then open it with him.

Is that weird? Am I obsessive? Friends do that kind of thing too, don’t they? Even when they’re all grown up… or supposed to be? Rin’s still not on. It’s later than usual for this time of the week. Not that I’ve memorised his schedule or anything.

As we get closer to midnight, I end the broadcast and decide I’ve been tragic for long enough. I pick up the envelope and give it a proper shake. Something rattles inside.

Waiting any longer would be weird now. It would totally send the wrong signal. Like I don’t care. Or that I care too much.

I’m definitely overthinking this.

I grab the rip tab and pull it open. As soon as it detaches from the packaging, a message pops up on my screen.