Surely, this is Just a Coincidence

“Where is he?” I ask out loud, becoming impatient as I wait for Alex to arrive. He was supposed to be here to work on this dig for the new building they’re putting in here, and he was supposed to bring one of the excavators. Without him there’s no way this will be finished by tomorrow. Now, instead of getting started like everyone else, I’m forced to stand here awkwardly, watching everyone else get started, and hoping he shows up.

He arrives twenty minutes late, but makes no mention of it, acting like he’s done nothing wrong. That son of a bitch. “You ready to get started, or what?” He asks, as if I’m the one we’ve been waiting on. I roll my eyes but say nothing as he uses the excavator to start digging up the lot, and I stand careful watch to make sure he doesn’t hit anything solid, like a rock.

The job begins to become monotonous as he digs up the ground, and deposits the dirt into a bigger truck that will take it to a dump site. This continues until I see something buried in the dirt. “Hold up!” I yell, loud enough to be sure Alex hears me over the noise of the truck.

He stops, and climbs out of the truck as I take a shovel, and begin to dig up the object manually.

“What is it?” Alex calls over as I pull the object out of the ground.

“Some sort of wooden box,” I say, holding it up to show him.

“Are you fucking with me?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, look,” I say, extending the box towards him a bit.

“Sydney, you’re not holding anything,” Alex says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Whatever, fuck you,” I say, quickly growing tired of his antics. “I’m going to put this in my truck”.

 

* * *

 

That night when I get home, I set the wooden box down on the coffee table in the living room, and settle down on my old, beat up couch. Then, I remove the box’s lid. Inside, there’s an assortment of objects.

There’s an old book, leather-bound, with yellowing pages. I flip the book over, and then examine the pages, eyebrows furrowed. The text inside is completely hand-written in a language I don’t understand. The next object I pull out is a stone that fits perfectly in the palm of my hand. It’s the color of tarnished silver, and there are strange marks carved into its otherwise smooth surface. Next, I find an old key with scratch marks all over it, most likely because it was carried around, and used frequently in the past. After that I find a pair of glasses. The lenses, and frame are both completely intact, bearing not a single scratch, even after spending who knows how long buried in that box. There’s also a necklace that has an emerald green pendant on a long, silver chain.

At the very bottom of the box, is an envelope, closed with a wax seal. I pull it out, and flip it over, surprised to see that my name is printed on the back of it. Surely, this is just a coincidence, but still, it’s a strange one. I open the envelope, and find a note inside. The note consists of only two words: “call me”, but there’s no phone number.

I set the note down, and pick up the object that I’ve determined is the most interesting, the book. I pull out my phone, hoping I can use it to translate some of the text from the book, but when I slide the lock screen open, I find myself at the dial screen with a phone number already selected: 266-334-6387.