Chapter Three

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Calvin trudged up the stairs of his apartment building, taking it one step at a time. The gym had not been kind that day; he'd pushed himself a little harder than usual, and his muscles reminded him with every step. 

The screams from the newlyweds could be heard on the second floor, and the ex-frat guys booing the TV on the third as he passed. His mail was precariously balanced in one hand and cellphone in the other, his mind elsewhere as he ascended.

He finally climbed the last set of stairs, legs protesting, and found the door marked four-hundred and five, shoving his mail under his arm he grabbed his keys without looking up from the LED screen clutched in his hand. 

He pushed the door open with his elbow and walked into the dark space, turning to place his keys on the hook by the door. He was pulled from his social media when they clattered to the ground.

"Crap," he muttered, readjusting his duffel and reaching down to locate them. His fingers searched along the thin carpet, coming upon something smooth and thin, definitely not keys. "What the--" Calvin stood and hit the light switch. 

Why he hadn't done that in the first place, he couldn't guess. The surrounding lights in the room made the object stand out against his tawny skin and there he was met by a long, white envelope with his name written in cursive on the front.

He knew it hadn't been delivered by the mailman; he'd never seen Ed walk up four flights of stairs, let alone just to pass along a measly envelope. No, this had to be the work of the former college guys. They loved to pull practical jokes.

He still remembered when they'd slipped one of those anti-shoplifting strips into his jacket pocket. He'd ran to the supermarket for a few things to make dinner and had been patted down by the police on his way out, only to find the strip a short moment later.

After a stern talking to, he was released to go home and was then taunted by the boys for their handiwork. Since then it had only grown. There was at least one prank a week, if not more. This could be the only one or the start of a list. He turned the envelope over, ripping along the top to retrieve the contents. First, he pulled out a letter, it was short and read:

The Everything Library lends not only books, but anything a person might need for a little while.

Below that instructions on where to go, and an explanation on how to use the ID chip.

What chip? He thought, reaching back in only to find a white piece of plastic the size of a credit card. His face was in a square on the front along with a seven digit number. The picture had come from his work badge, but how the guys got ahold of that, he couldn't quite figure out.

Well played, boys. Well played, he congratulated them as he held onto the items.

Still, there was something off about this joke, aside from the fact that he didn't believe either of them could write in cursive legibly. They'd always used things around their apartment. Never had they gone through the trouble of creating something that even had a magnetic strip on the back.

He continued to rack his brain on what it was about the envelope that bothered him even as he emptied his hands to hop in the shower. He set all of the mail along with his phone on the counter of the kitchen as he passed and walked through to his bedroom. He dropped his gym bag by the overstuffed hamper and kicked off his shoes, telling himself he'd tidy up his room later.

He padded to the bathroom, letting out a hiss as his bare feet met the cool tile. Swiping a towel, he slung it over the shower rod, and yanked the grey shower curtain back to reach the dials. With barely a thought, he reached out to turn on the hot water. His hand was mere inches from the dial when he paused.

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