“Darren, can you come in here for a moment?”
“What is it, Mom? I’m a little tied up at the moment.”
“Just come in here.” Her tone was a little harsher the
second time around.
Darren lifted his headphones off of his ears and hung
them from the hook nailed into the wall just above his computer. “What’s going
on, Mo—” He stopped as he entered her room, a small lockbox sitting on the
floor in front of her feet which were audibly tapping the ground in impatience.
Immediately Darren’s brow began to perspire.
“Do you mind telling me what this is, why it was hidden
behind your old kid toys in your closet, and why it has a lock on it?”
“What were you doing in my room? Mom, I’m twenty, don’t
you think it’s time to stop snooping?” His hands were sweating too, he could
feel the salty mixture pooling in the crevices all along his calloused skin.
“We don’t keep secrets in this house. My roof, my rules.
Open it.”
“Mom, seriousl—”
“Open it. Now”
Darren bent down, sliding the karabiner off of his belt
loop and flipped the rings back until he found the smallest key. He twisted the
lock, popped the box open, and turned it to display it to her.
There was a single piece of paper with elegant type on
it. Darren’s mother bent down to read:
“Now I know you’re
snooping through my shit. Good luck next time.” - Darren
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