Caught red-handed

For the last two days, I’ve been on course with a colleague. Today’s final exercises consisted of a test and then evaluation of the course itself. I was the first one out of the class and so waited for my colleague in a hallway near the exit.

Bored, I noticed a very pretty area on the wall, an area filled with boxes. Upon closer inspection, I realized that these were the old fashioned mailboxes. Four mailboxes across, there were ten rows. On each one of the wooden ‘faces’ was a little brass area where names would have once stood watch, and each mailbox had a very small round knob.

Because I oftentimes regress, my first instinct was to open one of them and peek inside. That first one whet my appetite and so then I opened a second one and also peeked inside. Disillusioned that there were no forgotten gems or secret messages within either, I took it upon myself to open all of the mailboxes in order to ensure that nothing had been left behind.

I was alone as I made a game of this and opened, in orderly fashion, each and every one of the mailboxes from the bottom up.

Once all were open and I’d confirmed that nothing rested inside of any of them (and to be certain, I’d pulled over a chair on which to stand and peek into the top row), I started to close them one by one. Maybe, not so quietly.

On the opposite side of the wall sat a gnome who heard nothing more than the undoing of and then the subsequent clickity clack close of each mailbox. The latch was in fact two magnets and so, the ‘click’, thanks to the echo of the stone wall, was rather loud where the gnome sat.

As I was approximately one third of the way through my closing of the mailboxes, the gnome appeared in a huff. She’d rounded the corner at full speed and was in search of the culprit (I).

Impossible that I could have lied about who was making the noise because I was the only person standing in the hallway. Worse still, she’d ambushed me and so as I turned my head (in slow motion) and our eyes met (in slow motion), I ‘click’ closed one more mailbox (in slow motion).

She stared as I froze. As a white flag, I offered: “It’s me”.

I’m sure that somewhere in the back of my mind, those two words denoted some sort of brilliant strategy. Somewhere really far in the back of my mind where even I couldn’t find it…

Standing like a ramrod with eyes the size of saucers, I was terrified by the gnome’s animosity.

“What are you doing?!”
“I lost a bet.”
“WHAT?”
“I lost a bet ‘cus I bet my classmates that there was something inside of at least one of the mailboxes and they’re still writing the test inside and because I finished early I told them I’d check and take the hit and now I’ve lost I’m sorry.”
“You’re being really loud.”
“I lost the bet I’m sorry.”
“You know sometimes people write tests in here and you’re being really loud.”
“Yes I’m sorry. I lost the bet. There’s nothing inside the mailboxes.”

“You lost a bet?” came the query from my colleague who’d come around the other corner.
“Yes, I lost a bet. THE bet.”
“What bet?”
“The one about the mailboxes. We should go.”
“Ok?”

As my colleague and I walked past the gnome (in slow motion), I looked over my shoulder and our eyes met once more (in slow motion) as she scowled (in slow motion). I could tell she’d recognized I was as full of hot air as those mailboxes.