Sometimes he took a box home, a perk of the job. Bottled water when the supply went bad, live crabs for Feliks his Estonian friend, ice-cream for his nephews.

Ära ava*, was printed on the box’s side. An exotic fruit he thought; too heavy for herbal tea. When Feliks came around with the Friday night vodka and blood sausage, he put the box under the table.

In the morning he remembered the fruit: oranges, maybe, to cure a hangover. The box was open and empty on the kitchen table, Feliks’s glasses smashed upon the floor.

(*Estonian for Do Not Open)

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This is a 100-word (exactly) flash fiction story, inspired by the picture above, provided by Fatima Fakier Deria. Click here to join in and here to read other writers’ stories.

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My American publisher, Tin House, is offering US readers the opportunity to join their ‘Galley Club’ for my third novel, Bitter Orange. Galley Club readers receive an early copy of Bitter Orange, in exchange for answering a questionnaire, and leaving a review of the book. Sign up here by June 27.