Use it wisely

Staring at an empty spreadsheet, my thoughts strayed briefly before my fingers began to move across the keyboard, “What could it hurt?” I murmured. Recently, an email had been sent to me about a story writing contest. The sum of money was great enough to cover my rent for a few months and my theory was that this as an opportunity to expand on my writing abilities.

I clicked my tongue and considered topics for my brief story. The usual suspects were considered which included romance, mystery, science fiction and eventually my decision was to focus on creating a mystery.

As I was debating who the main character would be, there was a knock at the door. No guests were expected, and I wondered who it could be. I sighed and stood up glancing at my short paragraph. I hoped that this would not be a project in which days would go by without an idea.

I peered through the peephole and saw no one. Was this a prank?

“Hello?” my voice sounded dry and raspy.

Slowly, my hand turned the knob to open the door.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” I turned my head to examine the hallway, it was empty.

That is strange, there is no one out here.

I shrugged and began to close the door but felt resistance, I tugged harder, but the door would not budge. I furrowed my eyebrows and glanced down to see a black leatherbound notebook at my feet. The notebook was plain but seemed to be new as there were no noticeable creases in the binding. I quickly glanced up and down the hallway once more before picking it up.

Shutting the door behind me, I walked across the room, and sat down in front of my laptop which had gone to sleep. Upon further examination, I noticed that the book was thick in the middle as if there was something stuffed inside which increased my curiosity and my fingers slid the cover open.

The manilla pages were crisp with black lines that crossed its pages, it was clear that this was brand new as there were no words except on the front page on which “use this wisely” was neatly written.

“Use what wisely, the notebook?”

Did this person know about my work as an author? I shrugged and skimmed the pages.

In the middle of the book, I found myself looking at a large sum of fresh hundred-dollar bills. My gaze did not leave the cash and slowly I counted.

One, two, three…

Overall, there were two hundred bills. Quickly, I ran the numbers in my head.

“No way. No freakin’ way.”

Twenty thousand dollars. I sat in my studio apartment looking at twenty thousand dollars.

Perplexed, I considered my options of where the cash had come from. It is not like I was popular, and my work had moved to my apartment. Bills had been a struggle to pay but only my parents were aware. There had been no mention of my financial woes to my best friend, so who could have dropped off the money?

I tapped my chin and glanced out the window and noticed the sun was beginning to set. People would be coming out for evening events and I briefly considered that someone had dropped the money by accident, as lost items were often found in the hallway.

But that knock could not have been by accident.

I sighed and stared at the money pondering what should be done. My lips curved sheepishly as I ran through a list of expenses that had accrued. Student loans had been overwhelming, credit cards had become a necessity at times, and a large debt was beginning to build. There were bills that needed to be paid and this money had come to me. I then thought about my apartment and glanced around the small room.

I mean, I have always wanted a house.

Down below, the city had already begun to come to life. My eyes scanned the street as people walked to their destinations. I tried to imagine where they were going but my thoughts kept going back to the notebook. While assessing the situation, my eyes flickered to the door.

What if someone were looking for the money and would be coming to my home to collect?

My hands turned clammy with sweat and my heart hammered in my chest. I lived in the city and with this amount of money, someone could be looking and know where it was. What if that were the case? Immediately the thought was dismissed before I shook my head and took a couple of deep breaths, using a technique that my therapist had been working on with me.

Should this money go to the Police?

I crossed my arms and turned to watch the activity happening below once more. There were more crowds and it was beginning to get busy. Someone knew this money had come to me and why.

Use it wisely…

I was still unsure what those words meant and did not know what to do and the money should be used. It could be turned in or kept and used in any manner of my choosing.

“Perhaps, I should sleep on it, then figure it out tomorrow.” I mused.

I assured myself that a good night’s sleep would be the answer and maybe a conclusion could be found in the morning. I counted the bills again, confirming the amount before sitting down at my laptop once more.

Later, I glanced at the clock and rubbed my eyes; at least three hours had gone by. A story had started to take shape and I felt a sense of accomplishment but knew it was time for a much-needed break. I ran my fingers through my hair as my mind wandered back to the mysterious cash that had been dropped off at my door.

Should the money be kept for a vacation?

I had not been on vacation in years and it would be nice. My work had all but consumed my days and being on the beach would be pleasant. I found myself daydreaming of crystal-clear blue waters, warm weather and laughed as I pictured sand between my toes. Yes, a vacation did sound wonderful, but was it using the money wisely?

What does use it wisely even mean?

My therapist had mentioned the topic of self-care recently and I wondered if a vacation could be “using it wisely.” I stood up and felt the satisfying crack of my bones as I stretched. My stomach growled loudly, and the realization that I had not had anything since lunch hit me. Yeah, self-care was a good topic to have during one of my recent therapy sessions.

I walked over to my fridge and opened the door. Inside, there was a left-over carton of Lo Mein that had been purchased the evening prior. I put the food into the microwave and turned on the timer, my thoughts turning back to the money.

You need a vacation, you have not taken one in years and you were just talking to your therapist about self-care, wouldn’t a vacation count as that?

Crossing my arms, I leaned against a countertop and continued to process my thoughts. Where would I go? Would I go alone? How soon would I be able to go? The microwave beeped and I pulled the food out, it smelled wonderful and my mouth began to water.

With my dinner in hand, I sat down at my coffee table and glanced at the notebook. There were many possibilities and thinking about them made my stomach turn uncomfortably. I set my carton on the table and sighed; anxiety could really curb an appetite.

Nonchalantly my fingertips brushed the binding of the notebook and the knots in my stomach began to disappear. The bumps on the notebook were somehow comforting, and I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I smiled, picked up my food and took a couple of bites. I was still unsure of what to do with the cash, but figured that after dinner, getting some sleep would help.