I hate my job, Kate thought as she walked through the door of her cramped studio apartment. Tossing today’s stack of bills and collection notices onto the kitchen counter, she reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of cheap domestic beer. Then, dropping herself on the beat-up couch, she tried to forget the day’s events.
Kate Johnson was a 26 year-old woman who, like many high school substitute teachers, was biding her time until she could get a full time position somewhere in the city. Adding to the already stressful life of dealing with overcrowded classrooms and students who ignore her pleas for order were the collections notices that came through the mail on an almost daily basis. She didn’t even bother reading the letters anymore. They were all the same.
What I wouldn’t give for a million dollars right now, she thought as the unopened envelopes beckoned for her attention.
It was at that moment that someone knocked on her door, breaking the silence and harring Kate from her well of self-pity.
Should I answer it? Maybe they’ll go away.
A moment later the sharp knocking sound came again, but this time the intruder revealed his purpose. “Special delivery for Ms. Johnson,” he said with a crisp New Zealand accent.
Her curiosity piqued, Kate went to the door and opened it as far as the security chain would allow. A million dollars and I could have a peep-hole installed.
Upon seeing the man before her, Kate’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach. I’ve been had! She silently screamed. This ’special delivery’ is going to be a summons!
Dressed in what appeared to be a perfectly tailored Armani suit was a man in his mid-40s. He wore frameless glasses, carried a sleek valise, and had the reek of money. It was clear he was here to conduct some serious business.
“Ms. Johnson, I presume?”
Unable to think clearly, Kate could only nod.
“My name is Mr. Stone. I’m here because you’re in some trouble, and I want to help.”
This is far worse than a simple collections notice or court summons, she thought. I should have known the student loan office would sic someone on me.
Kate stood immobile for a moment until the well dressed stranger asked if he could come inside. Knowing she had no chance of escape, she decided to face her problems head on.
She offered Mr. Stone the chair beside beside her worn sofa but he declined stating, “I won’t be here long.”
He’s well dressed. He won’t stay long. Yet he wants to help. What’s his angle?
Wasting no time, the man began his well-rehearsed introduction and got right down to business. “I have in my hands the answer to your problems. With this simple valise, you can have any wish you desire granted.”
He paused to gauge Kate’s reaction to the statement and, as expected, she did not seem to believe her guests’ claims.
“You don’t believe me, and that’s understandable. I will leave this box with you until you decide to use it. It’s really very simple. All you do is open this lid, state your wish, and push the button. That’s all there is to it.”
While making the presentation he had placed the small black box on the cluttered coffee table and opened the top to reveal the single red button inside. It seemed to glow crimson from somewhere within.
“I just open this box and push a button, huh?” Kate asked. Her tone masked nothing.
“That’s all there is to it,” he confirmed. “There is, however, one consequence.”
“Of course.”
Ignoring the comment, Mr. Stone continued. “When you push that button, someone you don’t know will die.”
Having finished his task, the well dressed man politely inclined his head and left without a word, leaving only the small box behind to prove the visit had been real.
Great, she thought after finishing the rest of her beer in one gulp. I’m so stressed out that I’m delusional.
–
Two days after Mr. Stone’s visit, Kate was trying desperately to keep a group of 11th grade students on the subject of ovarian functions and failing miserably. After fifteen minutes of unnecessary comments and raucous laughter she gave up and sat behind the desk with her shoulders slumped. It was at that moment when she heard her name called over the intercom.
“Ms. Johnson, you have an urgent call waiting.”
Urgent? Did someone die?
Her mind raced as she dashed down the hallway of the school. Although she had wanted an escape from the hell of teaching sex education to a bunch of hormonally hyper-active kids, an urgent phone call wasn’t what she had in mind.
Bursting through the office doors, Kate reached the phone and stabbed the flashing red button. “Kate Johnson,” she gasped, catching her breath.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Johnson. I’m calling from First National in regards to your over–” He never got a chance to finish the sentence.
Slamming the phone down, she let out a shout of frustration, catching the office staff by surprise. The momentary rage was quickly replaced with embarrassment as the realization of what just happened sank in.
–
I hate my job, Kate thought as she walked through the door of her cramped studio apartment. Tossing today’s stack of bills and collection notices onto the kitchen counter, she reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of cheap domestic beer. Then, dropping herself on the beat-up couch, she tried to forget the day’s events.
I wish I had a million dollars, she thought once again.
Her eyes drifted over to the small box that had gone untouched since the day before. Mr. Stone’s instructions replayed through the theatre of her mind, as well as his ominous warning.
Someone I don’t know will die? But people die every day. If I don’t know them, then would it even bother me?
Kate had been raised to respect life and killing was against her nature. She still couldn’t bring herself to set up the mouse traps required to combat her growing rodent problem. But I need the money.
Who ever heard of a box that can grant wishes, though? It’s probably just some cruel joke.
Throwing caution to the wind, the young woman opened the fist-sized box and took a deep breath.
“I want a million dollars,” she said in a clear voice before pushing the illuminated button.
Nothing happened.
“Uh huh. I should know better by now.”
A sharp knock came at the door followed by a voice with a crisp New Zealand accent. “Special delivery for Ms. Johnson.”
Kate set the box back down and opened the door. Mr. Stone stood there looking the same as two days before, except in his hand was a large security briefcase.
Without mincing words, he strode over to the woman’s coffee table and retrieve the valise, replacing it with his briefcase, unlocking the case and revealing stacks of neatly arranged 20’s and 50’s. He nodded once then stated, “One million dollars. As requested.”
Then, just like before, he made his way to the door.
“Wait!” Kate called after him. “You’re taking the box?”
Mr. Stone stopped and looked back at the young millionaire with a look of irritation on his face. “Ms. Johnson, when you pushed this button, someone you didn’t know died. Now I’m going to give this box to someone else. Someone that doesn’t know you.
“Good day, Ms. Johnson.”
