The room went quiet.
I thought I heard him wrong.
Then Jake laughed!
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
Jessica shook her head. “That’s… wow!”
I didn’t say anything, just sat there, silent and humiliated. Then I stood up and picked up the box.
Matthew smiled. “That box isn’t worth the hassle,” and the others chuckled.
I just took it and left in tears.
I just walked, and by the time I stopped, 20 minutes later, I was standing in the park.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
Grandpa had brought me to this very same place in my childhood.
I sat down. Angry. Hurt. Exhausted.
I kept replaying it in my head.
The will, laughter, and the way Grandpa used to tell me I mattered.
“Why’d you do that?” I muttered under my breath.
I stared at the lunch box for a long time before opening the rusty latch with trembling fingers.
I lifted the lid and froze.
I kept replaying it in my head.
My hands started shaking uncontrollably as anger and hurt engulfed me.
Inside wasn’t food. There was a neatly folded stack of old receipts. Dozens of them, maybe more.
Underneath that was a small empty notebook.
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