My Encounters with a Paper Bag

Chapter Two

There it was, sitting there. It was fully in reach but still eluded my grasp. My hands were shaky and refused to work properly no matter how hard I willed them to lift up.  I stared at a yellow note strapped to the door. With all the questions in mind, I found myself reaching for the slip of paper. I can't remember lifting my arms, but the chains strapping them down had broken. Here they were touching the edges of some unknown message. I lifted the paper to my face. The words had blurred with fear.
"Hello stranger, I will skip the formalities and precede the bit that is actually relevant. I am a fellow stranger. I don't know you but I already feel connected to you. Unfortunately I will not be able to greet you in person. I hope that this letter will pass your standards for a greeting."
I paused. I had been holding my breath the entire time without realizing.
"Today, I only require you to complete a simple task. "
"Today, does this mysterious writer expect me to come AGAIN? Why on earth would I do that? I don't even know this person, and he expects me to complete multiple tasks for him?" I though feeling slightly uncertain.
"As you can see, the state of my work has fallen to shambles. Your purpose, the reason you came here in the first place..."
"Did he think I needed a definition of the word 'purpose'? Wait... He meant here.. As in here here of all location."
" Your purpose, the reason you came here, is to improve the state to suite the appeal of the public. I have provided you with an appropriate amount of money to get you started. You will receive your pay tomorrow based on the quality of your work. Sincerely...."
The signature was unrecognizable. At this point, I believe the writer did this intentionally.
I rode back to town feeling free like the birds that flew away when I first arrived. I didn't feel free. I felt more trapped than before. Even though I had not promised my return, I felt obliged to return like a prearranged commitment ordained the second I chose that colorful piece of paper.
I stopped in front of a paint shop. I kicked out the stand of my bike "forgetting to lock it down".
"What can I do you for Noah?" Mr. Lincoln proclaimed.
"I just need about three to four cans of paint."
He paused as if needing further explanation.
"Oh sorry... I hadn't really chosen a color or anything like that."
"That's quiet alright. Y'all can stay s' long y'all need."
His southern draw made me feel oddly comfortable about my childish mistake.
"...Blue" I said
"Blue" he echoed
He instantly went to work finding a can of blue paint. Since I had given him no specifics, it would seem to be a simple task. Not for Mr. Lincoln. He had a peculiar way above it him that turned simplicity into strenuous labor, but he enjoyed even the hardest of work. He was a kind soul who smiled with his eyes. He looked everywhere but as old timey as his ways. Handle bar mustache, striped suspenders, and a worn hat. He had finished the paint and I handed him the money I owe. Leaving me with around $17.00 left over. I thanked him for his service and loaded the paint onto the bike. I hadn't planned a spot to place it while riding. So the basket in front was much too small. I placed two of them in the basket and the other three stacked on top of each other balanced on my lap, leaned against the handle bar, and secured down with my chin.
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I felt my heart sank down to my stomach which by then had turned to water. I lowered. When I had first arrived, I had no idea I would return let alone loathe the journey. Now, here I was back again not knowing what came next.