Chapter Nine - Part 2

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The following morning, the middle-aged businessman awoke before his family to fetch the Saturday morning newspaper from his front porch. The snow descended peacefully onto the soft, white-powdered ground. The heavy snow blanket quieted the sounds of the mail truck, which passed as soon as he had opened his wreath-decorated front door to see the Saturday newspaper bundle, with a slim package securely wrapped beside it and correctly addressed to:

TROY DUCKWORTH

Surprised, Troy grinned and bent over to pick up his newspaper and gift.

        

Unsure of whom the gift may be from and every bit astonished, Troy placed the mysterious package on the marble countertop in the kitchen, taking his seat with a hot cup of coffee. He tore at the package’s wrapping ruthlessly, digging towards his gift. His heart and jaw dropped at the site of it.

        

The small white sign that Troy saw the old homeless man holding the previous night on his walk down East Main Street had made its way into Troy’s home. Attached to the back of the sign was a note and a thin stack of one hundred dollar bills. Startled, Troy flipped through the stack of money and read the laconic note:

CENTRAL PARK BENCH. NOON.

Troy immediately disposed of the sign, tossing it into the crackling fireplace, then returned to flip through the stack of bills and stashed the folded note into his bathrobe’s deep pocket. Confused, stunned, and slightly terrified, Troy sat down on a kitchen barstool in silent amazement, holding his forehead in hands, elbows posted on the countertop, with a look resembling that of a philosopher who was about to meet his fate.

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