Add One - Pass It On

Pit, pat.

Pit, pat.

Pit, pat.

The rain threw itself against the glass of the small bus stop, sending wave after wave against the transparent roof. It was as though nature wished to attack, unleashing armies to beat down on the line victim huddled in the small shelter. That is what Arin believed.

Another rejection. Another day without a job. Another day with only a dollar in his pocket. Another day believing nothing will go his way. Arin’s patience was thin. He kept his eyes glued to the shimmering concrete in front of him. Reflections of street lights danced on the gray surface. There was always a bit of beauty in every storm that passed through town, and on any other day, Arin would have felt some enjoyment to witness it. But with cold fingers curled into fists stuffed in denim pockets, the only feeling present was impatience. Where is that damn bus?

Pit, pat.

Pit, pat.

Pit, pat.

After several long minutes and with a slow churn, the bus emerged around the corner, its neon 20 banner greeting Arin. The 20 brought some relief. Finally, a retreat back home.

“Hey, don’t forget your bag.”

Nails dug into his fists. Arin tensed. In all this time, he thought he stood alone. He didn’t hear anyone else enter the bus stop area, but then again, he kept his eyes and ears to the street. For the last ten minutes, the world consisted of Arin and Arin alone.

He turned to his right, expecting to find another body huddling from the rain. But, they weren’t. This person stood several feet away from the stop, far enough that Arin could not distinguish details on their face. A soaked hood concealed the stranger’s face, and he already forgot what the voice sounded like.

Arin returned with a face of confusion by the sudden conversation, so the stranger pointed to a backpack resting on the stop’s bench. Arin’s bag. He had placed it there to keep it safe from the rain, but his impatience kept him from sitting next to it.

He nodded back to the stranger and picked up the bag by its neck, feeling a wave of unnecessary embarrassment from the interaction take over him. Of course, he wouldn’t have forgotten the bag, but because someone mentioned it, he second guessed himself. Because he was stuck in this moment of self doubt, Arin did not notice the bag was heavier than before.

The bus halted in front of him, and the doors swung open. Arin expected the stranger to board, so he waited a moment to let them on first out of politeness. But nobody came. In fact, when he turned back to find the stranger, they were already walking away from the stop. Another wave of embarrassment. Arin dug his fists into his pockets and hopped in.

Settling in the far back corner of the empty bus, he leaned back with a sigh of relief. Home was near, and that meant the day was almost over. As he rested his hands on his bad, he realized it was wet.

“No, no, no–” Arin whispered, unzipping the bag and fearing water damage inside. He had brought his laptop – his prized possession – and if it was destroyed, it would be the perfect ending to an already awful day. He opened the main pouch; the laptop was dry.

Mostly.

A large leather pouch sat in the bag, a pouch Arin knew wasn’t his. It was worn out, and whatever was in it was pushing its zipper to its limit. He straightened his back, confused at what he was seeing.

How did this pouch get in here?

Did he accidentally grab it from somewhere?

Is this not even Arin’s backpack?

These questions almost made Arin miss his stop, but when he saw the parking lot of the local grocery store, he hurried to the bus’s exit.

His questions fueled Arin for the remainder of his walk home to his apartment. As he climbed each step, a little more reassurance came to light. Everything else in the bag was his: the laptop, the water bottle, and the confetti of forgotten receipts. There was nobody who had the same orange backpack with a wiener dog patch. If there were, Arin would have other things to worry about.

Apartment 320 stood in front of him. Home. He opened the door and immediately rushed to his only table. Arin gently lifted the pouch out of his bag and sat it on the table. Seeing it out in the open, it was huge, almost the size and thickness of a small pillow. But it was hard. Curiosity and confusion took over. Part of Arin believed it contained important documents. Another part of him was convinced it held something illegal, like weapons. Despite the growing fear bubbling inside of him, he unzipped the pouch.

Immediately, Arin noticed the faint green of dollar bills. He saw 1s, 5s, 20s, and 100 dollar bills, all in different states. Some were fresh and crisp, wrapped in rubber bands, while others were folded in ways that only come when they’ve lived in pockets for days. Along the wall of the pouch sat a black notebook. With a shaking hand, he pulled that out first. It was clearly used; the strap that kept the notebook closed lost its elastic, and Arin could feel pages were missing. He gave a small sniff. Aside from the distinct scent of paper, there was nothing suspicious about it. He opened to the first page and was greeted by one sentence:

ADD ONE – PASS IT ON.

All caps, at the top of the page. Arin was confused, for this was not what he expected to find. Besides, what could it mean?

Add what?

Pass on what?

And to who?

Green shimmered in the corner of his eye, and he immediately forgot about the phrase. The money was back in his mind. They pulled out a pen and used the remainder of that first page to count the bills inside of the pouch. The majority were 100s but Arin found many 20s, several 50s, a lot of 1s and 5s, and even a handful of 10s. The bag kept providing more and more money, which made Arin more excited whenever he stuck his hand in. He counted the amount of each bill he had for a total of–

“20,000.” He had to say the total out loud for it to be true. He checked the math twice, keeping all the bills in neat stacks. The four zeroes washed away any fear residing in him. Arin was rich, at least, rich to be comfortable for a little bit. He couldn’t keep the excitement contained. He started scribbling more in the notebook, splitting the sum into various needs.

“Obviously some should go into savings, but now rent is covered for– and I can afford a new laptop– And maybe even– wow, I can’t believe this.” The scribbling became illegible from the adrenaline, but suddenly a growling stomach brought Arin back to reality.

He dropped his pen. Food first, he thought. That will help me concentrate. He eyed the money resting on the table and plucked a $50 from its pile. Then, he decided it was better to keep all the money in the pouch instead of out in the open, so he put it all back quickly. He shoved the 50 in his pocket and left the apartment with a little spring in his step.

The rain had stopped for the moment by the time Arin left the apartment building. Reflections continued their dances on the wet pavement, but this time, Arin danced alongside them. He noticed two people – a couple perhaps – standing in his bath, but with their eyes in Arin’s direction, he assumed the couple would move out of his way. However, as he neared enough to hear them talk, the couple didn’t move. He knew at this point it would be more of a hassle to go around them, so he simply tried to go through them.

“Excuse me,” He said, trying to give them a friendly smile, but was met with resistance. The couple barely moved out of the way, but didn’t make any indication that they were bothered by Arin passing by. As he brushed his arm against one of them, a hand grabbed his jacket. Another hand went for his pants. They simply grabbed him for a moment before letting go, almost as if it didn’t happen. Arin stumbled through, unsure of what just happened.

He turned around, expecting the couple to go for another attack, but they were back to their conversation, laughing and smiling. Their eyes, however, were still glued to Arin. He could see their heads begin to turn towards him, but then they snapped back at each other. He decided it was best to continue walking.

That was weird, He thought, but continued on. Soon, Arin came upon a high end restaurant. There was a large group of people out front, all waiting for tables. Not wanting to repeat what happened with the couple, he moved to the street but kept his eyes on the crowd. There was a tension in the air, as the conversations came to a screeching halt. Every head followed Arin as he passed, some beginning to twist at unnatural angles. It was all in unison.

He stopped, and the heads snapped to his location. His stomach dropped, all hints of hunger lost. This is too much, He thought. I’m going home. He spun around, and walked back to the apartment. The heads never stopped following. The walk morphed into a run. As Arin passed by people on the street, he could see them staring at him. Everyone was looking, still spinning their heads to avoid losing their gaze.

Finally, he made it back in the small apartment, the safety of his home. He leaned his head against the door, breathing heavily.

“Pizza…” Arin whispered, “Pizza is also good.” He nodded and turned around, ready to order, but froze. Paper littered the apartment, ripped from a notebook. All the same size as the black notebook. All scratched with the same sentence:

ADD ONE – PASS IT ON.

He slowly inched forward, careful to avoid stepping on the paper. Now, things had become almost too strange to comprehend.

Almost.

The papers on the ground – it could have been the window? There had been a storm. Wind could be strong enough to do this damage. Arin rushed to the window to see if it was open, but stepped back when he saw what was outside. Dozens of people stood in the street, all in perfect distance from each other. All staring up at Arin.

He took a step back. Wind brushed against the window, and Arin swore a voice could be heard. “Add one,” It seemed to say. “Add one. Pass it on. Pass it on, Arin.”

He looked back at the pouch and pulled out the $50. Add one. Add one? He dug into their pockets to find one crinkled dollar. Arin threw both of them into the pouch and shoved the notebook back in.

He tucked the pouch under his arm and ran back outside. The crowd was gone. The rain had returned. Arin didn’t know where to go, so he just started walking.

Pass it on.

Pass it on.

Pass it on to–

The bus stop sat before him, a lone woman standing near the street. Two grocery bags left unattended behind her. Her eyes glued to the street. Arin crept slowly behind her, trying to shield his footsteps with rain. He placed the pouch slowly in one of her bags, and a weight lifted his shoulders. He began to walk away from the stop, watching the 20 bus pass him.

He stopped and turned back to the woman.

“Hey, don’t forget your bags.”