Abby hesitated, suddenly feeling apprehensive. Something was distinctly familiar at how the present had been wrapped. She vaguely remembered someone who did the same thing — wrapping a present in many layers of paper — only she couldn’t remember who. She also knew that whoever did that same thing before never meant good to her.

A loud bang from an exploding firecracker outside snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked at the box again.

Get a grip, Abby! 

She reached for the box and shook it a bit. There was a swishing sound inside, like paper moving inside a box. It wasn’t heavy, and there were no ticking sounds coming from it, which relieved her from all thoughts of bombs from terrorists. She removed her face mask to sniff the box, and it smelled just like what it is — cardboard.

“Here we go.” She said to herself, lifting the box’s cover quickly before nervousness or fear could get the better of her…

…and inside the box, lying on thin pale pink crumpled paper, were photos.

Abby put the cover of the box beside her, and picked the photos up from their pink paper bed. There were about ten 4R photos all in all, printed in glossy print with white border, just like she asks the photo houses to print her photos. There was something stuck in the middle of the pile, and upon closer inspection, Abby realized it was a sealed envelope, containing a letter. She pulled it out, looking for a name or any clue to who this could have come from, but there was nothing written on the envelope at all.

Before Abby could look at the photos or open the envelope, she felt her stomach grumble, reminding her that she hasn’t eaten dinner yet. She put the lower part of the box aside, picked up Tita Pacita’s brownies, stood up and made her way to the kitchen again to eat while she browsed through the photos she held in her hand.

A few minutes later, Abby had re-heated the pasta, took out the 1 liter bottle of Coke from her fridge and poured it in her favorite glass. She sat on a chair in front of her food, taking a bite of the dish before picking up the first photo to look at it.

It was both exciting and terrifying at the same time - she felt her hands grow a little colder as she soon discovered that the parcel was wrapped in multiple layers of paper. She felt her heart skip a beat for every sheet that she unraveled.

Now why was she taking a chance again?

Her inner voice went silent as she stared at a plain white box, which was in stark contrast in its current position - in the middle of what had been its colorful decorative disguise only a few seconds ago. With a nervous shake of the hand she reached for it, feeling the cardboard against her fingers, and slowly, slowly, slowly began to open it.

Tita Pacita gave a knowing nod. “Of course, of course. Why, I still remember the time we had to rush you to the hospital when you were ten years old.”

“But wait, where’s my manners? Let’s not talk of asthma on New Year’s Eve. Here!” Tita Pacita took out from a large basket a small cardboard box. “I’ve baked some brownies and thought it would be nice to go around the neighborhood and give them out. You know, for New Year.”

“Tita, you shouldn’t have,” Abby smiled at the thoughtfulness of the old spinster. Her husband died twenty years ago and has not remarried. “I’ll be sure to enjoy this.”

“You’re welcome Abby. Neat things come in small packages.” With a wave, Pacita turned around and waddled off to another house to drop off her brownies.

Abby opened the box and saw there were twelve bite-sized pieces of Pacita’s delicious brownies. She has prodded her to market it commercially, even if small-scale, but Pacita was not the entrepreneurial type. With a delighted sigh, she went back inside and closed the door behind her.

Putting the brownies on the sofa, she turned her attention to the mysterious package. One part of her was telling her to throw it away before something bad happens. The other part was telling her to open it. It might be a nice surprise. Curiosity won out as Abby got scissors and started cutting the wrapper loose.

Abby leaned against the door, conflicted as to how to feel about this series of tiny mysteries. She did not do much to break the stereotype after all; Abby was one of those girls who believed that somewhere out there was the Prince Charming who was searching for her to make her life all better. She grew up believing in the damsel-in-distress philosophies sold by the many Disney’s princesses prior to the cross-dressing Mulan.

She heard the doorbell ring a third time and came upon the decision to put the package down on the nearby table. She turned back towards the door, took a deep breath, then opened it just enough to peer outside.

“Susmayrosep!”

Abby’s eyes opened wide as she watched her Tita Pacita backpedal a tad too fast for her own girth. The older woman was fondly called her Tita out of mere respect for her greater age. She had lived next door to Abby and treated the gal like a member of her own family. Tita Pacita had been startled to see the mask-enclosed face that suddenly stared back at her from the crack at the door. She had pulled backwards in shock, tripped on her own feet, and nearly landed on top of Katsumi, the black stray cat that Abby had named after noticing how it always came to laze at her doorstep.

“Abby,” Tita Pacita gasped between growing bouts of short laughter, “Of all the things to wear. I know you have asthma, but isn’t that being a bit too much?”

Abby smiled at her neighbor and reached up to slide the mask away. There wasn’t as much some as usual anyhow.

“Sorry, just taking precautions. Can’t have an asthma attack on New Year’s Eve,” Abby grinned.

With a barely audible creak, Abby opened the door just a tiny peek. It would be bad if she got a whole lungful of the sulfur-laced smoke outside. “Hmmm … that’s strange,” Abby said to herself. Outside, through the foggy air, punctuated with bright flashes of multi-colored lights, was no one. Muttering grimly, she was about to close the door when she noticed a small package lying outside the door. It was wrapped in a filmy, yet kaleidoscopically decorated material. Abby quickly went to her room and picked up one of her gas filtration masks. Slipping it over her nose and mouth, she carefully went outside and picked up the box. With a satisfied grunt, she pushed the door shut and took the mysterious package inside.

She twirled the box in her hands for a few moments, thoroughly enraptured with the beautiful colors and patterns of the wrapper when skepticism took over her thoughts. “What could be inside? Probably nothing,” she mused to herself. It made sense that it was some sort of trick played on her by her naughty friends or maybe one of the neighbors. After all, who would leave a package in front of someone’s door on New Year’s Eve?

Then, with some foreboding, another thought came to her, “Maybe this is … some sort of bomb?” The fact that recent terrorist attacks hit the malls and some churches gave her a rising wave of fear. Suddenly, the doorbell rang again.