As I crossed the threshold and my eyes adjusted to the dim, powder-caked everything, I instantly recognized what it was I came to retrieve. This post office contained a trophy case of all the various bowling and charity events the employees had participated in. It also contained the unmistakable stench of durian fruit.
At one point in the history of the human race, it was illegal to ship durians by most means because of its pungent odor. It's something you either love or hate, and if you were a hater, the faint waft of the smell could cause dry heaves. Nowadays, you shut up and donned your face mask if you had to come into contact with the fruit.
I let my nose lead me to the shipment. As I rounded the corner and saw the package, I whistled in appreciation. Jack had really gotten good intel on this one. Three durians the size of my head were wrapped neatly in clear heavy-duty shrink wrap, they smelled about a week from being optimally ripe, just in time.
So, I have been reminded that it is Nanowrimo, and while I've been wracking by brain for any sort of idea that I could conceivably write thousands and thousands of words about and be able to re-read over and over again without being utterly blargh, so far, nothing. Some half formed ideas of a sci-fantasy story that I thought of a year or two ago about a world that we discovered that is basically based on our fairy tales. Chock full of unicorns and such. They fed off of and evolved from our imaginations. And today on the bus, children with special abilities, starting with a boy who every night when he went to bed, would in his sleep grow a special hair that in the morning, when he woke up and it fell out, would either create a creature (bunny, etc.).