Later that afternoon he received an email from the project lead at his work. Her name was Sandy. She was wondering if he had picked up a letter from Johnny Timberland. Earlier that month Johnny Timberland had pledged to donate 50 grand to the non-profit as part of his initiative to better the community and provide kids with an infrastructure that would cultivate love and success. He hadn't ever really heard of Timberland even though he was somewhat of a hero in this town. He was a professional basketball player who wasn't well known in high school and ended up playing small forward at Augusta University in Georgia where he lead his team to the Division 2 Championship. Timberland then transferred to the University of Wisconsin where he seldom played his next 2 seasons before winning Big Ten defensive player of the year as a senior. He was then drafted by the Boston Celtics in the second round and had been a key fixture in their second unit for the past 4 years. He learned all this from wikipedia. He also learned that Timberland's father was killed in a driveby shooting when he was 4 years old and was raised by a single mother. He dedicated his life to basketball through all this and even though he had one of the poorest contracts in the NBA he seemed committed to outreach and volunteer work. In addition he learned that Timberland was known as a hothead and was suspended multiple times for disciplinary reasons throughout college and the pros. He wondered if this donation was part of a plan to improve his reputation and make him seem of high moral character. Either way the non profit was thrilled.
He searched through the letters that lay scatted on his table. None of them appeared to be from Johnny Timberland not even the mysterious box that had been torn open by that mysterious woman. Sandy seemed pretty anxious to receive Timberlands check and seeing that he hadn't left his apartment in over a day he decided to bike over to the post office and check the PO box. He put on his winter coat since it seemed unusually cold and windy out for a spring day. He grabbed the PO box key on the table closed his computer and left the building. Biking in the roads always made him especially nervous even though he had never had any close calls or rode in a particularly dangerous way. It was more that he was slow and the thought of inconveniencing all the people that had places to be bothered him and whatever thoughts and curses these people in their cars had towards him had a stronghold on his well-being and prevented him form truly enjoying the simple pleasure of riding ones bike on a windy day. Today, however there weren't any cars on the road. Just one construction vehicle driving 10 mph. He also only saw two pedestrians, an old couple sipping drinks together on the park bench. Usually he'd see at least 10 people on his trip to the post office.
He slowly walked his bike to the bike rack and left it there. "Damn" He said allowed. He had forgotten to bring along his Ulock. He looked around. There were only 2 cars in the parking lot and no people in sight so he just left it there unattended and walked into the post office. "Hey, How's it going" he said to the wall of PO boxes. No response. The guy who usually was there must be off today. He searched around and found PO box 914. Hopefully Johnny Timberlands check was there then he could report the great news to Sandy. He grabbed the key out of his pocket and placed it in the keyhole. It wouldn't turn. "This doesn't make any sense" He thought to himself as he kept jamming the key into the hole. Then it hit him. He must have grabbed the wrong key on the table. the key that was in the mysterious box that the mysterious woman opened. This trip was going horribly. He turned around to leave the building but then he glanced back at PO box 915 and then looked at his key. Hmm just maybe... He put the key in the hole and waited for a second before turning. Click!. Woah, Its the key to PO box 915!
This was the PO Box that the postal worker said had been ignored. letters began spilling onto the floor all with various addresses and names. He hadn't really thought about this scenario and getting increasingly anxious that someone would notice, he hurriedly gathered all the letters and stuffed them into the box. But just as he was about to close the door, he noticed an unmarked packaged in the back. A package that looked identical to the one that contained the key. He grabbed the package, placed it into his bag and briskly left the building. He wondered whether these two boxes were connected in some way or if he had made some serious mistake by violating the federal law of taking someone else's mail. Well, he thought maybe it'll help him figure the peculiar reason to why his work received this key in the first place. He cut through the front lawn of the post office to the bike rack. There was no bike in sight. Only the soft imprint of tire wheels on the dead grass.
He searched through the letters that lay scatted on his table. None of them appeared to be from Johnny Timberland not even the mysterious box that had been torn open by that mysterious woman. Sandy seemed pretty anxious to receive Timberlands check and seeing that he hadn't left his apartment in over a day he decided to bike over to the post office and check the PO box. He put on his winter coat since it seemed unusually cold and windy out for a spring day. He grabbed the PO box key on the table closed his computer and left the building. Biking in the roads always made him especially nervous even though he had never had any close calls or rode in a particularly dangerous way. It was more that he was slow and the thought of inconveniencing all the people that had places to be bothered him and whatever thoughts and curses these people in their cars had towards him had a stronghold on his well-being and prevented him form truly enjoying the simple pleasure of riding ones bike on a windy day. Today, however there weren't any cars on the road. Just one construction vehicle driving 10 mph. He also only saw two pedestrians, an old couple sipping drinks together on the park bench. Usually he'd see at least 10 people on his trip to the post office.
He slowly walked his bike to the bike rack and left it there. "Damn" He said allowed. He had forgotten to bring along his Ulock. He looked around. There were only 2 cars in the parking lot and no people in sight so he just left it there unattended and walked into the post office. "Hey, How's it going" he said to the wall of PO boxes. No response. The guy who usually was there must be off today. He searched around and found PO box 914. Hopefully Johnny Timberlands check was there then he could report the great news to Sandy. He grabbed the key out of his pocket and placed it in the keyhole. It wouldn't turn. "This doesn't make any sense" He thought to himself as he kept jamming the key into the hole. Then it hit him. He must have grabbed the wrong key on the table. the key that was in the mysterious box that the mysterious woman opened. This trip was going horribly. He turned around to leave the building but then he glanced back at PO box 915 and then looked at his key. Hmm just maybe... He put the key in the hole and waited for a second before turning. Click!. Woah, Its the key to PO box 915!
This was the PO Box that the postal worker said had been ignored. letters began spilling onto the floor all with various addresses and names. He hadn't really thought about this scenario and getting increasingly anxious that someone would notice, he hurriedly gathered all the letters and stuffed them into the box. But just as he was about to close the door, he noticed an unmarked packaged in the back. A package that looked identical to the one that contained the key. He grabbed the package, placed it into his bag and briskly left the building. He wondered whether these two boxes were connected in some way or if he had made some serious mistake by violating the federal law of taking someone else's mail. Well, he thought maybe it'll help him figure the peculiar reason to why his work received this key in the first place. He cut through the front lawn of the post office to the bike rack. There was no bike in sight. Only the soft imprint of tire wheels on the dead grass.
