Black Is A Lucky Color

He paced around the room for what must’ve felt like hours. Occasionally he would glance back at the small black pocketbook on the coffee table. Finally, he stopped pacing and stared at its contents once more. At that moment he decided that this was a sign, it had to be because how else could he have been this lucky.

Hours before he found the book had been just like any other day. The man began his morning by bringing in today’s paper. As he began back to his front porch he noticed a bright red paper. He tugged lightly at the alarming notice on his door that read “EVICTION NOTICE”, and right below it, in a smaller print, “three months rent overdue”. He heaved a sigh and stifled a cry as he entered his home. He plopped down on the nearest armchair with the red notice in one hand and his brew in the other; and drank the rest of its contents in silence.

By noon, the man had finished most of his work for the day. He took a moment to admire his handiwork and decided it was time for lunch. Lunch was always spent with Mr. Harpy. During this time the man would listen to Mr. Harpy’s stories, some of his youth, others of his time at war, but mostly about how the antique store came to be. The man would indulge the shopkeeper until they finished their meal or when they decided they wanted to get back to work since there was no real demand for old light fixtures, records, books, and anything you find in an antique store. But today was different because Mr.Harpy would not be having lunch with him today, tomorrow, or ever. You see, Mr. Harpy had left his beloved store to his dedicated employee after he passed that February, and if truth be told it was on its last legs. It wasn’t until today that man noticed the dark, dry atmosphere of the store. Suddenly, his appetite withered away.

The man got to work repricing some of the merchandise in the store. He focused his efforts on household items like mirrors, furniture, and table sets since they would be easier to sell but despite his hard effort to keep the store afloat, he was struggling to sell anything. He stopped what he was doing for a moment and decided his efforts were better spent organizing the back room of the store where they kept some items in storage. He hadn’t been back there since Mr. Harpy had passed because he dreaded the reality of never seeing him (Mr.Harpy) hunched over his desk working his way through that morning’s paper “Sudoku of The Day”. They never understood why Mr.Harpy took the time to come into work because he never did any of the work but he appreciated his company. Now, all the man had left was a dark cluttered office full of dusty memorabilia.

The man stood in front of the closed office door waiting to be invited in or hear the light scratching of a pen on paper but he was not greeted with either; he even thought about knocking but quickly stopped himself because that would be reaching, and he let himself in. The office was small and smelled like what you’d imagine, old. Old like decaying paper, wood, or old men and their employees. The man took a moment to look around Mr.Harpy’s office and realized he had never actually stepped foot inside and only in passing would he glance at his old boss. The man stopped when a small snow globe on a tall bookshelf caught his attention. He noticed inside the globe was a picture of Mr. Harpy and his late wife Mrs.Harpy. He reached for the globe to grab it and as he did, a small sliver glare caught his eye. He turned his attention towards the glare when suddenly, he tripped over his laces causing a great big “THUMP”. The eruption caused the globe to come falling from its great height and hit the man right on his head, how comical he thought. The man sat up and rubbed his head.

“I should be careful, I don’t want to break something,” he said.

He took the globe in both his hands and shook it vigorously as he watched its entire contents distributed everywhere, to his surprise he heard a rattle. He gingerly placed the globe near his ear and once more, he shook the globe to hear the light “rattle, rattle”. Confused he turned the globe over to examine its contents when he noticed a small notch on its bottom. The man pulled open the notch and found a small silver key hidden within the globe. To his surprise, he knew exactly what this key would open. He stood up, returned the globe to its shelf, and closed the store for the rest of the day.

The man found himself at the post office. He stood in front of a box 777. He knew the key would open it because Mr.Harpy had sent him here every week to retrieve whatever junk mail was put here. It never occurred to the man why Mr. Harpy would hide such a trivial thing and without a second thought opened the box. When he opened the box, he found a small black book no bigger than his mobile phone. Confused by the lack of mail and intrigued by this mysterious book he took a step back.

“Why in the world would Mr.Harpy hide a book here?”, he questioned.

Suddenly, the man got an eerie feeling that someone could be watching his strange transaction and took a look around to see if anyone was truly watching him. There was no one in plain sight but he decided it was safer to read the contents of the book in his home, so he grabbed the book, tucked it into his inner coat pockets, and left.

Once again on his armchair, he sat and signed. Despite his afternoon being slightly less excruciating than his morning, he was relieved to be home or at least the place that was his home since he couldn’t afford it anymore. Irritated by his crappy life, he induced chaos in his living room. He began throwing vases, plates, tearing books, and even broke his television. He was livid at the fact that his life was falling apart and nothing in this life was worth any more of his efforts; and when that thought came across the man's mind, he began to cry. It had been some time since he cried this way and his only wish was to be held but the man was alone, and the loud silence of his home reminded him of that.

After some time the man wiped the pitiful tears off his face and remembered the small book in his coat pocket. He pulled the book out and held it in both hands. The black leather book was full of ridges and felt sturdy. He opened it and its title page read, “Patrick Harpy”. The man smiled at Mr.Harpy’s handwriting because it resembled that of a kindergartner. He touched the cover page ever so gingerly as to not smear the pencil markings and turned to the next page. The page was empty and so was every page after it. Carefully, the man flipped through every single page each one not having a single marking until he reached the end where he noticed a small pocket. Spreading the pocket flaps open, he found a folded piece of paper that read a series of numbers and a bank name. The man turned the piece of paper over and it read, “I left what I had for you, thank you for everything friend. -Harpy”.

The man paced around the room wondering if this message was for him. He paced around the room for what must’ve felt like hours. He grabbed the book from off the floor and placed it atop the coffee table. The man went back and forth in his mind whether he should go or stay until finally he stopped pacing and stared at its contents once more. At that moment he decided that this was a sign, it had to be because how else could he have been this lucky.

It was 4:30 PM when the man arrived at the back and showed the teller the same note he’d found. The teller without hesitation led the man to a banker. The banker explained to the man that he inherited a great sum of money from Mr. Harpy (20,000 dollars to be exact). He continued to ask him a series of financial questions but all he (the man) could think of was a series of his questions that needed answers.

When he returned home could still not believe that Mr.Harpy left him more money than he could ever need or want. The questions in his mind were still very loud and demanding. Remembering he still had the folded paper in his pocket, he pulled it out, and read it out loud, “thank you for everything friend”. Then all the questions in his mind disappeared.