Square Boxes: A Flash Fiction Original Short

01 Square Boxes short story

You know that awkward moment when you meet a new roommate or a new neighbor? That happened to me and my wife. 

We moved into this duplex in a new town and a new city. The neighborhood we choose was small and in the suburbs, exactly what we were looking for. It seemed safe and sound, exactly what you would expect. 

We unlocked the door and walked right on in. We had no movers or family to us, just my beautiful wife and me.

We started to unload our boxes from the back of our van. We were talking and laughing as we did it, just enjoying our new neighborhood. 

About an hour after we finished, we were sitting on a love seat we had brought, just relaxing. There was a knock on our door and I jumped up to answer.

It turned out to be the neighbors, the Johnsons, in the unit connected to our ours. There were a sweet couple who welcomed us warmly to their neighborhood bringing us a basket of wine, cheese, cookies, and sausage. 

The four of us chatted for about ten minutes, but then, then Mrs. Johnson said something interesting. She looked around at our boxes and asked, “So, why are all your boxes square?”

I looked at my wife and she at me. I could tell from her expression that she did not know how to react. 

I mumbled for a bit and finally said, “Because,” I overemphasized the word. “That was the only shape we could find other than a few round ones we didn’t need.”

Mr. Johnson nodded almost sympathetically. “I know, man,” he said. “We have moved several times, but all they ever have is square. We want triangles, circles, hexagons, and everything in between.” 

My wife was now trying not to laugh. “Oh, really?” 

Mr. Johnson said, “Yeah, it is so weird. I just don’t get it. I mean, we’re not square.”

Mrs. Johnson suddenly said, “Well, I got a shift to get to. It was nice to meet you. Welcome again!”

After they closed the door, my wife and I started to laugh a little bit. We wondered if this was only the beginning of things to come in this neighborhood.

Copyright ©2016 Jacob Airey. This story is a work fiction and bears no resemblance to reality. 


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