Seemed like I didn't have a lot of choice. I picked up the box and carried it into the house and set it on the coffee table. Then I got out the bottle of gin and fixed myself a martini. I turned off the T.V. and sat in the brown leather arm chair my little sister got me for Christmas before we stopped speaking.
Me and the baby and the gin, we just sat there until the phone rang. It was Dave, checking up on me. Dave keeps calling me even though I never pay him any attention. I was glad for it, this time.
"I've got a baby," I told him. He started to splutter but I cut him off. "No, I didn't have a baby, you idiot, it just appeared."
He asked what happened and when I told him it was still in the box he told me he was on his way over. He thought I should feel bad but hell, it wasn't my baby. And no one with any sense would leave a baby with me. I washed up my glass and put everything away and then I sat and waited. That baby just stared right up at me, as if it wasn't particularly bothered about lying in a box in some stranger's house.