Leather-bound Mystery

It all starts on a blank page in my little black notebook. Spilling my soul on each page, en route to work everyday. I always find it serendipitous to unclog my mind on paper, while the seats on the subway clog up. Consciously creating space in my head, while the space around me fills beyond my control. There’s so many interesting strangers one encounters everyday on the train. Some more familiar than others, yet some absolutely strange. Strange it all became when this man stepped on the train that autumn day.

A man I had never seen before, dressed to the nines. He wore a three piece suit, a top hat, and carried a black leather briefcase under his arm. He sat next to me as I scribbled away my sorrows. I wrote about my hunger for change, as I listened to the grumbling of my stomach pains. The strange man glanced over now and again, curiously smiling. I pulled away towards the window, and tucked my notebook under my arm. Ashamed of my struggles, I buried my face deep in the pages. I continued to spill my sorrows upon the blankness. Moments morphed into minutes, and my pages became flooded with black ink. Enraptured in my story unfolding, I had hardly noticed that the man stepped off the train. I looked to my left where he sat next to me. He was gone, but seated there was his briefcase.

I looked in every direction to see if he was around. There was no trace left, but this briefcase. I thought to myself, “How could he leave something behind that had been tucked underneath his arm?” Then I noticed a small note posted on the front of the briefcase. It read, “I knew I sat by the right person today. Your stomach could write songs with it’s grumbling. May your hunger change to prosperity.” On the back was a code to unlock the case. I couldn’t believe how weird the story was unfolding. Who was this man? And what was in this briefcase?

I was as nervous as I was eager to see what was inside the briefcase. However, I didn’t want to open it at work. What if it was a bomb? What if he was a terrorist? What if there was a murder weapon inside? All the terrible possibilities of what could be stirred in my brain. I questioned if I should take it to the police station and report the man, but I couldn’t shake my curiosity to peek inside first. I read over his note again and again. Trying to decipher his intentions behind leaving me with this leather-bound mystery. However, I waited impatiently at work till it was time to go home.

When I boarded the subway I thought maybe I might see him again. Maybe I could ask him what was in the briefcase and what his intentions were before I opened it. I was anxious. My mind raced, so I opened my little black notebook and scribbled my sorrows away. This time more conscious of each stop, each new passenger. Not as preoccupied with my own story as I was that morning, I became a part of the story of the train. As it unfolded at each stop it was the same strange familiar faces I see most days. Although, I noticed them in an unfamiliar way. I was more present with their existence. I realized that we were all just the same. Though we had different destinations, we were all just people riding a train. I reached my stop near home, tucked away my little black notebook, and deboarded the train.

I walked up to my apartment, the leather-bound briefcase underneath my arm. I sat it on top of my living room table. Then I took a deep breath and a sigh. I had the briefcase, the code to unlock it, and a whole day's worth of pent up curiosity. With the courage of a fool I spun the numbers of the lock “7-7-7” and unlocked the case. It was filled to the rim with cash. I counted $20,000 nested in the mysterious briefcase, with another note. The note read, “This is your lucky day. To me this is just spare change.” I was shocked in disbelief. The grumbling in my belly seemed to sing. The strange man changed my life that day, and I never saw him again.