It arrived on his doorstep seemingly without anyone delivering it. He had walked down to the mailbox – nothing today – and when he got back to his front door, it was just sitting there, a plain brown package. The kind of embarrasingly obvious packaging they use to wrap things you would be embassed about ordering. Confused, Harold made furtive glances towards his neighbors’ houses before picking it up and going inside.

There was no return address.

The package sat, untouched, on his old cherry coffee table for days before he felt comfortable enough to open it.

It was a small brown box with something large made of red cloth folded up inside. Harold fluffed the cloth open, like a bedspread.

It was a red cape.

A piece of yellow sticky note fluttered onto his carpet. all it said was: “You’ll know.”

It had been five years and still Harold did not know, but he kept the cape at the front of his closet, nonetheless.