You continue to search frantically for the package, wondering why you had to fall into boxes all the same. Now you're feeling foolish, saying to yourself: Why can't I do anything right? All I had to do was deliver a package.

The smell of the basement has got your head spinning. Was it the smell of blood? of death? or an old musty odor? You couldn't pinpoint the origin of the smell, but it didn't matter to you anyways.

Then you see it! It turns out it slid underneath the stairs, when you fell, nicely tucked beneath.

But just when you thought everything was fine, you notice the beaty-red eyes beside the package. They stared back at you with idiotic indifference and you started to mirror the same image, back. It was a mouse, twitching its wiskers and chattering its teeth.

The mouse looked like it hadn't ate in months and it was now eyeing up the package like new territory to investigate. Over to it's right was a table of old, rusty kitchen-ware and the mouses left was the wall.

The mouse had taken a step over to the package you care so dearly about, knowing screwing up the delivery would cost dear. If you wanted to you could corner the mouse easily, but the possiblility of getting bit was there...