Whomever Finds This.

FROM THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF SAMUEL REYNOLDS:

I, Samuel Reynolds, do hereby claim this story I am writing to be true. I have not told anyone about this before. However, before I lose my life to the cancers which affect me, I feel I must reveal this tale I am about to tell.

Those whom knew me will say I was not one to tell fables. This story is true. No attempt has been made to alter it.

Allow me to explain everything.

It was the year 2020 and I was down on my luck. The COVID pandemic was in full swing. Everywhere people were losing something or another. Whether it was people losing their minds, their income, their jobs, or even their own lives. Everybody was losing something. Political discourse had devolved into fights about President Trump being the best, or worst, president all time. The news either trashed or treasured Trump. There was no middle ground or commonality.

Personally, I did not care one way or another. I had too much to contend with at the time. The pandemic had cost me greatly in the way of income. Although I was not forced out of work like many others, I experienced a great reduction in my income. This was because of the government imposed quarantine which made an impact not just on me, but my customers.

As I said before, I did not care about politics in these trying times. Though I will say I was upset to hear about George Floyd like anyone else. Even then, there was just too much going on in my personal life at the time.

For me, I was mainly focused on surviving the pandemic. Sure, I was indifferent to the News, but what could I do about it? In fact when the Capitol was engulfed by riotous protests, I just shrugged at it.

Some of my customers in my line of work died. Those whom were still alive, myself included, were fearful of losing everything.

In my case, I had owned a very small business at the time. it was called Reynolds' General Store. It was a simple shop done to resemble the general stores of old. Sure the products were modern, but the layout was akin to, as my customers had put it, the old days.

My clientele were largely baby boomers whom came to relive their younger years. Some of my customers even came to show their grandchildren what it was like before to shop before the days of Wal-Mart. Just hearing the stories these old folks had to say was a priceless treasure in itself.

Sadly, some of them passed away because of COVID. What is even more upsetting was I never recorded the stories and life experiences of these people.

I stood not only to lose my customers to COVID, but as a result of the government issued quarantine, my business as well. Despite this, I'd given anything to hear my old customers one more time.

As I endured the painful months of quarantine, I came across this mysterious box.

I went to obtain my mail one morning when I first found it. Laying inside the mailbox was this little package; a tiny black box with a green ribbon.

"What is this?" I pondered while reaching for it.

At first, I was under the impressive it was some fancy junk mail. A black box with a green ribbon added to that assumption. What was more perplexing was the lack of a return address. After much thought, I figured this must have been a gift from someone in the neighborhood.

Whom it was, I did not know.

I took the box inside my house to observe it more carefully. Once I entered the kitchen and sat at the table, I began to open this box to observe its contents.

Inside was this little black book.

I opened it and took note of the words written. The words themselves were drafted in the most pristine handwriting I'd ever seen. It was if the writer took such painstakingly time to ensure the words were clear in both diction and clarity.

The words written went as follows:

Whomever finds this,

I do not know your name or your circumstances.

Not that it matters to me.

I am doing this to assuage some personal guilt of mine. What that entails I do not wish to say. However, to help me reduce the pain of my consciousness, I have decided to offer this to you.

Whomever you are that finds this, please know I hope you spend this well. It does not matter to me what you purchase with this, just know I want you to be happy with yourself.

I only ask is that you use it for something you need, and not what you want.

In closing, may it serve you well.

And that was all it said.

What struck me odd was there was no name, nor any clue as to whom left this little box. Just a letter and the contents within. What I found in this box, I was not prepared for to be honest. After I moved the flap which covered what was in this box, I was floored.

Within this box were two stacks of $100 bills. Which altogether was $20,000. At first I thought I was dreaming. A box with a tiny black book with an impressive amount of money? Now I am not one to live vicariously, but this was something usually found in fiction. Not in real life.

To be honest, I felt very uneasy. Was this money stolen? Was it lost? I did not know. Yes, there was a letter along side this cash which made it clear it was for anyone who found it.

Since I did not want to evoke any suspicions, I chose to remain quiet.

I waited for the News to mention something of this box, along the letter and the money. Since there was a pandemic, I could remain at home using self quarantining as an excuse for not going out. For several days I waited.

Until...

Nothing.

Not a single story or snippet about this little box, let alone the $20,000 inside it. All the News reported on was Trump's leadership abilities, or lack therefore of; COVID, and racism. It seemed that a little black box was not deemed newsworthy by the media.

That was fine with me. I did not care about the attention nor did I desire it. When I went to deposit this $20,000 cash in my bank, I made the choice to deposit it little by little.

Since I could not enter the bank directly, being in my car in the drive through allowed me to avoid such comments. I did not feel comfortable with anyone saying things to me like, 'Sam, where did you obtain that?' or 'That's a lot of money, Sam. Especially in this pandemic.'

At any rate, the $20,000 I found in that box was utilized in preserving Reynolds' General Store. By the time I had spent all of the money, the quarantine had been lifted. Business slowly returned with customers wearing masks. Yet things were never the same.

Though the years have come and and gone, I still ponder about whom it was that sent me that $20,000 so many years ago. I never got a chance to meet that person, nor did I ever get a chance to thank them. Perhaps they too had reasons for remaining anonymous. Whomever they were, that person saved Reynolds' General Store. Though its likely I will die before I discover their name, I am nonetheless thankful for that small donation.

Oh, and as for the black box itself? I kept it. My reasons were to remind myself that in times of trials and adversity, there will always be someone, somewhere to render aid. Even when one least expects it.

All I can ask is that you, my inheritors, be willing to do just as my mysterious benefactor did for me. In times of adversity, please donate to someone. You ever know whom may need it.

I also ask that you donate anonymously. That way the donation is more appreciated.