When a Stranger Knocks

By: Jessica Harvey

Her hair was as chaotic as the glossy black heels strapped to her ankle. She couldn’t quite remember what time he was supposed to pick her up at. She hoped she’d at least gotten the day right. Most of her life was based off guesses, gambles, and shots in the dark. A tinnier part of her life was ruled by simple reprieves, like sleeping late into the morning, or times when she was lucky enough to catch an empty elevator.

She had a craving for fries that couldn’t wait, but when she opened the fridge, she was lost in the stacks of styrofoam. Guessing what was in each of the white foamy material containers and whether it was still edible or not was a task that she found herself doing too often. After staring blankly for one entire minute into the fridge she closed it, deciding that fries just weren’t worth the feat. Theoretically, she could’ve cleaned the fridge, but that would cost her time she didn’t have to spend.

It was then that she heard three obnoxiously concise knocks on the door. She hadn’t the faintest idea what to expect. She only prayed her friend liked her enough not to set her up with anyone too bland.

She also prayed that wherever they went, fries were waiting for her.

He took a deep breath before he knocked on the door. When he got out of the car, he decided he’d knock twice, short and sweet. But then he thought no, two knocks was far too informal. Like something you’d reserve for a close friend. He danced on the prospect of knocking four times, but if someone knocked on his door four whole tedious times, he wouldn’t bother answering.

The door didn’t open for a few seconds. But it dragged on like an eternity. In that eternity, he had time to rehearse everything that might go wrong. He planned, organized, re-organized, and planned some more, yet his heart stammered with anticipation as if all his preparations had led him to the answer of a question he never asked. The blind date was the most daring thing he’d done in years. He lived by strict rules. His days were made up of lists upon lists. He kept colour coded closets. His fridge organized by mapped out meals. Nothing was new. Nothing was scary. When the door struggled open, everything about his date was new and scary.