The Match (Part 3) The Note

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Daily Prompt: Lookin’ Out My Back Door

Look out your back window or door — describe what you see, as if you were trying to convey the scene to someone from another country or planet.

I open my back door. “Shoo, shoo! Get away, cat!”

To my alien guest I say, “Cat, a furry four legged animal the size of loaf of bread. They think they rule. They are cute when small. Some people like them; they are insane. Don’t talk to cat people. There are two types of humans: those who like cats and those who don’t. We will rule someday. That’s what Chinese globalization is all about. So come back when the Chinese restaurants have exhausted the cat population and rids the world of them. It will be safe then.

“Oh, what’s that you ask, how big is a loaf of bread?”

Hope you enjoyed my muse at the expense of cats and their supporters. Here is part three of The Match.

The Match (Part 3)

(Continued from yesterday.)

The Note

Rusty climbed in his truck and pulled into traffic. “The pen,” he thought, “the address is downtown. It’s not like I have to be anyplace today. I’ll check it out. Maybe the address on the pen is where the box is. If there was nothing of value they may have stored it some place. It’s worth a try.”

Fifteen minutes later Rusty was in the lobby of a downtown bank.

A polite lady dressed in modest business attire rose from her chair behind a desk and greeted him as he walked toward her. “Samantha Martin, I’m a customer service representative. How may I help you?”

“I doubt if you can,” Rusty said. He held the chain with the key out from his neck. “I have this key and I was wondering if it belonged to this bank?”

“Well let’s see,” she said. “It has a number.”

“It’s been 30 years,” Rusty said.

She sat at her desk and looked into her computer screen. “Hmm,” she said, “the box was actually purchased. So it is active. Is it yours?”

“It’s my father’s” Rusty said, “he’s been dead for a number of years and he gave this to me when I was a boy.”

“Would you like to examine its content?” she said.

“Yeah,” Rusty said, “why not.”

“May I say something?” she said, “make a suggestion.”

“Certainly,” Rusty said.

“What is in there may be quite emotional for you,” she said. “Do you have some one who you might like to have with you?”

“Sure,” Rusty smiled. “You. And thanks for being so considerate.”

She smiled. “I’ll get the bank’s key.”

Rusty waited.

Banks are cold. In spite of all the friendliness demonstrated they continue to be as cold as a funeral home during business hours. Both seem like they are going to own you in the end no matter what.

Mss Martin returned to the lobby. “This way,” she gestured with her arm extended like an usher.

On the way back to the vault where the deposit boxes were located they engaged small talk and Rusty introduced himself.

They entered the room. Rusty inserted his key and Mss Martin inserted the bank‘s. She pulled the box out and sat it on a table in the middle of the room.

“You know this is a private moment,” Rusty said, “So if you don’t mind…”

“Sure, I’ll be in the lobby,” Mss Martin said. “Just dial 825 on the phone on the wall and I’ll be back to assist you.”

“If anything is in the box I’ll clean it out and you can close it out,” Rusty said.

Mss. Martin walked away.

Rusty stared for a moment at the box. He smiled and wondered what his father had hidden away, if anything, all these years. Perhaps a clue to the man he never knew. It would be just as fitting if nothing where in it, empty.

His fingers grasped a small handle to lift off the top and expose the contents. He opened the lid. An envelop laid on top of some papers. He looked at the envelop. His hand trembled and a rush of emotion filled his chest.

“To Rusty,” it read.

Rusty opened and read:
Dear son, If you are reading this you have figured out what the key is to and what the pen was for.
The only thing I can hope for is that the evidence does not come back to me. If I’m sent to prison I’m sorry for the shame brought to you. This is all I have to give you, what is in this box.
If there is any complications regarding what has been left to you there is a will in the box also.
What is here is just a piece to a puzzle that will lead you to find the truth. Follow it to where it takes you and be curious.
This is all I have, son, wish I had more to leave you.
Love,
Dad

(Continued tomorrow.)

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22 Comments

  1. I am a cat collector 😉 I am also glued to your story. Funny, I feel the same way about banks and funeral homes.

    1. Thanks Richard. I guess when I misspell a word time should be taken to confirm the suggestion.
      Smart cat, we’ll save that one.
      Chang says, “No cat saved.”
      Sorry, Richard.

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