Only One Hour

“There was only one rule: don’t open the door. No matter what. You got that?”

“Yeah yeah” Jack dismisses “then the money’s mine right?”

“All ten thousand.”

“Easy.”

“I’ll be back in an hour then.” The gallery curator slips down the corridor and out of sight, leaving Jack outside the door with only the company of a little boy. One hour, that was all. Easiest money he’d ever make. What kind of job was this anyway?

“I know what’s behind the door.” The boy sings, breaking the silence.

Jack starts and looks at his watch. Only ten minutes had passed.

“Okay?”

“Aren’t you curious?”

“Eh, no.”

Fifteen minutes pass.

“The curator’s loaded y’know.”

“So?" Jack shrugs "You're saying that whatever's behind the door is worth more than ten k?"

“Infinitely.”

He pauses.

“I ain't falling for that.”

Five minutes more.

“It’s something money can’t buy.”

Ten minutes.

“I’ve seen it myself.”

“What is it then?” Jack finally snaps.

“It’s a secret.” The boy replies, placing a finger to his lips. “But it’s something far beyond your comprehension.”

“Are you saying I’m thick?”

The boy shrugs provokingly.

Jack snatches the door handle, then, pauses. He looks down at the little boy, who smiles back at him.

“I won’t tell, if you don’t.”

“45 minutes. Cutting it close.” The curator drops ten-thousand-pounds into the outstretched hands of the little boy. “What was it this time? Money? Curiosity?

“Pride.” The boy replies.

The curator turns back to where the door had been moments before and instead pulls down a large framed picture. “Not my best work I’ll admit.” He sighs “They’re all the same. Place something forbidden in front of them and they just can’t help themselves.” He stares at the picture thoughtfully. “I think I’ll call this one: Jack in a Box”