The doorbell chimed, a shrill sound that made Maya jump. She peered through the peephole, smoothing down the front of her borrowed sweater, a hand-me-down from her sister. A delivery driver, a young man with a friendly face, held a package in his arms. He was smiling. She fumbled with the lock, mortified that her hair was probably a mess from the wind.
"Package for… Ms. Elara Vance?" he asked, his voice polite. Maya's stomach plummeted. This had happened before. She always felt so exposed when she received mail for the previous tenant.
"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, you have the wrong address," Maya stammered, twisting her fingers. "I mean, I live here now, but…" She trailed off, embarrassed by her inability to form a simple sentence. Her cheeks burned.
The delivery driver tilted his head, the smile faltering slightly. "Are you sure? It's addressed… here." He gestured to the package with a shrug. Maya felt a flush rise in her neck.
"Yes, I'm sure," she said, her voice a little too high, trying to sound firm. "I don't know who that is." She shut the door, her heart thudding against her ribs. She immediately peeked out the blinds, watching as the delivery man walked back to his truck, package in hand. She felt a deep, uncomfortable prickle of shame, as if she had somehow failed a test.