Letters from Allison to herself — part 1
Allison sat down in the lunch room just before people would come in to use the microwave and opened up her lunchbox. She had somehow found her lunchbox from when she was in middle school in her parent’s basement. It was green and emblazoned with the Power Rangers in dynamic poses. The lunchbox was a soft insulating material. The contents were usually a drink of some juice, a sandwich, some fruit, cheese, and a cookie.
Instead, inside the box that afternoon was a letter, a key, and a bag of change that mimicked the weight of her lunch.
Dear Allison,
I’m writing this letter to you because I’m you. Today, you have something very important you need to do at the First National Bank on Youngstown road. Get there by 12:30 and ask for your safe deposit box. The tellers will know who you are.
Sincerely,
Yourself
Allison’s heart felt like it was going to stop. She tried to think back to the night before when she usually packed her lunch. She couldn’t remember her usual routine. A few hours were missing from her memory.
She didn’t have an account at First National, specifically because they didn’t have free checking. Allison felt her skin raise into goosebumps and she thought about not going to the bank. Then she got up. Went outside to her car. And she drove to the bank with a feeling of dread in her stomach.
“Hi, I’d like to have access to my safe deposit box. The name is Allison Hendrix,” She told the first teller she saw.
“Right this way Ms. Hendrix. You are box 253 correct? We just got a memo this morning about you opening your box last week.”
“Yes, I believe that is right.”
The clank of the box on the metal table in the safe jarred Allison out of going through her memory with a fine toothed comb. She had no recollection of opening an account at the bank.
“I’ll be outside, just let me know when you are finished,” The teller told her.
Allison slide the key into the box and turned. The lock clicked and the lid popped open. Lifting the lid took Allison’s breath away.
Three neat stacks of hundred dollar bills rested next to three passports a set of keys, a phone, and another letter.
Dear Allison,
If it’s 1:00 you need to take the contents of this box with you to Grand Central Station and get on the first available train to Washington D.C.
If you ignored my letter and decided to get here later then book a flight to Miami. Don’t let the news scare you because you are needed there.
Sincerely,
Yourself
To be continued…
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