If you want the truth, you need to go out there and find it. You need claw your way to the very top. You follow the goddamn money like we did, but now we’re trapped in a goddamn box.
Our search started innocently enough. A dollar bill on the ground, unclaimed. We reached down and scooped it up. And then bam: a few feet away, another dollar. And then another. Followed by dozens more, in a wild meandering path taking us across dangerous construction sites, through patches of forest, and past pies cooling on windowsills.
The trail of money eventually wound its way through a decrepit neighborhood and with each treasury note we collected, the dizzying question of where this all would lead hung over us like a dark cloud, or more accurately, a large box.
We’d managed to gather quite the collection of bills, but our meager stack was no match for the haphazardly stacked pile of ones under the shadow of a large, upturned box. The box itself was held up precariously by a y-shaped stick: perhaps hickory, but it was hard to tell. And it’s outside the box now so we can’t study it.
Not everything in life is tied up in a neat little bow, but there actually was a neat little bow of string tied to the stick holding up the box. The slack end snaked its way into a dark alley, disappearing into the black. But our thoughts were on the money.
What we thought was the end was only the beginning. How deep does this rabbit hole go? Where does the trail of money lead? In our case, it led to being stuck inside this fucking box.
Article by Seth G. Macy @sethmacy