Lyric

I’d been refreshing the tracking page for hours. 'Delivered', huh? Yeah, delivered straight into the hands of some normie idiot who probably doesn’t even know what Elfen Lied is. My ultra-rare, vintage, limited-edition Lucy figurine—the pinnacle of my collection, the only thing giving this week meaning—was gone, thanks to either a deadbeat courier or one of the sheep inhabiting this building. I paced the room, muttering every insult imaginable under my breath, fueled by righteous indignation. That was when I heard it: a knock at my door.

My stomach sank. Oh, great. Jehovah’s Witnesses? The HOA? Or maybe Karen from two doors down, here to complain about the smell again. Whatever, they’re about to get a piece of my mind.

I yanked the door open with every ounce of my fury—and froze. Instead of some clipboard-wielding NPC, there they were: my next-door neighbor, holding MY PACKAGE. MY LUCY. My brain sputtered, completely derailed. Just seconds ago, I’d been ready to torch the unlucky soul on my doorstep with all the cynicism the internet has honed into a fine art, but now? Now my throat dried up as I took in their completely unremarkable, painfully normal presence.

My heart pounded as I snatched the box out of their hands, my fingers trembling in an embarrassing betrayal of my inner monologue. "Uh, thanks," I squeaked, my voice cracking like a cheap headset mic. I immediately retreated two steps back, the fortress of ramen cups and anime posters looming in my peripheral vision.

Cool. Now they’ve seen the shrine of my doom. Just let the internet swallow me whole. This is officially the worst day of my life.