ONE MILLION DOLLAR COMPANY / A SMALL FICTION
We had promised to post the borrowed hand drill on Friday.
The printer box had cost us nothing.
The woman measured it.
“Fourteen pounds.”
She pointed to a smaller box.
“Four in that.”
“How much for the smaller box?”
“A pound. Or I can cut yours down. We have two minutes.”
She reached for the scissors.
“It’s a good box,” we said.
We bought the smaller one flat.
“We’ll make it up at the office,” we said.
We carried it back inside the printer box.
The counter closed at five. Our clock said five past.
We slid the box under the desk and opened the notebook.
Postage saved: £14.
Look inside what we brought back.
The drill lay in one corner. Newspaper filled the rest.
Return to the price of the smaller box.
The smaller box was still flat, on top of the drill. Its receipt lay between the flaps.