Ts Pandora Melanie | _best_

Melanie jumped. Her roommate stood in the kitchen doorway, barefoot, holding a mug of tea she hadn’t been drinking. Pandora had moved in three weeks ago, answering a sublet ad that Melanie didn’t remember posting. She was pretty in a sharp way—dark bob, gray eyes that never blinked enough—and she had a habit of knowing things before Melanie said them.

“Open it,” Pandora whispered.

She should have thrown it away. She should have called the post office, a priest, an exorcist. Instead, she pressed her thumb to the lid’s cool surface, and it swung open on a hinge that hadn’t been there a second ago. ts pandora melanie

Pandora smiled. “No. It named itself.”

Inside: nothing. Just black velvet and the smell of rain. Melanie jumped

Melanie looked at the silver eye in the box. It blinked.

She woke to find Pandora gone. The apartment was empty. No clothes in the closet, no tea mug in the sink, no shadow where the sublet’s bags had been. She was pretty in a sharp way—dark bob,

“What did you just do?” Melanie whispered.