At 11:30 PM, I was home alone and ordered some takeout.
When the map showed the delivery driver was zero meters away, my phone rang.
I picked up, but there was nothing but silence on the other end-an eerie, unsettling quiet.
Impatient, I hung up. Just then, the driver sent me a private message: [I’m so sorry. I’m deaf and mute. I called you just to make sure you’d know your food had arrived immediately, but I couldn’t explain the situation over the phone. Please forgive me.]
[You must be waiting. I’ve already left the food at your door. Please pick it up as soon as possible.]
I was just about to open the door when several lines of bullet comments suddenly drifted across my vision.
[Don’t open the door! That person outside isn’t a delivery driver at all-he’s a murderer!]
[He called you so he could hear your voice and confirm whether you’re a woman living alone!]
[I’m so over this. The protagonists in these horror stories are always so brainless. This delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she’s still going to open the door.]
