Every morning, right on the dot, retired Arthur Whitmore stepped onto the porch of his cottage and found the same peculiar gift waiting for hima fresh loaf of bread, neatly wrapped in plastic. The packaging bore a brightly coloured label from a shop hed never heard of, the name sounding foreign, as if it belonged to another country. It set off a nagging feeling that something wasnt quite right.
At first, he assumed it might be a kind gesture from a neighboursomeone whod noticed he lived alone and decided to lend a hand. He felt a twinge of gratitude, yet something held him back from eating it. A gut instinct warned him that free gifts rarely came without strings.
The next day, it happened againthe same loaf, the same packaging, the same spot. This time, he wondered if it was some new council scheme to support elderly residents. But none of his neighbours had mentioned anything, and no official letter had arrived.
By the third morning, Arthurs nerves were frayed. The precision of the timing, the odd origin of the breadit all unsettled him. He tucked the loaf under his arm and marched to the nearest Tesco. Approaching the till, he asked the cashier, “Is this your doing? Some sort of promotion?”
She blinked at him as if hed lost the plot. “Not us, love. We sell bread, not deliver it to doorsteps for free.”
Leaving the shop, Arthur felt even more uneasy. The more he thought about it, the more his suspicion grew. What if the bread was tampered with? What if someone meant him harm?
On the fourth morning, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Dusting off an old camcorder from his wardrobeonce used for family Christmaseshe set it up to film the porch.
When he played back the footage, his heart nearly stopped. Clear as day, at four in the morning, a small drone had glided silently to his doorstep, hovered, gently deposited the loaf, and vanished into the dark.
His hands shook as he packed the camera and hurried to the police station. There, struggling to explain, he showed them the video. The officers exchanged glances before one stifled a laugh. “Blimey, mate, youve been roped into an experiment.”
Turns out, some flashy startup was trialling an automated bread delivery system, and Arthurs address had somehow ended up in their customer database. A few days earlier, while fumbling with his mobile to check the weather, hed accidentally clicked an ad and signed up for a monthly subscription. He hadnt a cluejust a misplaced tap, and suddenly he was enrolled in a free trial.
When the officers explained, Arthur didnt know whether to sigh in relief or rage. They refunded him and cancelled the subscription, but the whole ordeal left him rattled.
As for the loaves stacked in his kitchen? He never dared take a bite. There was just something about them that felt off.
