Leroy

The attic was dusty and Leroy coughed as he reached for the string, cursing. The bulb flashed. Figures, he thought. He turned on his flashlight and ascended into the piles of boxes and antique furniture. Looking through this place always gave him the creeps, as if it were haunted. He just wanted to get this over with. He had to find it.

It was an antebellum home and this room benefited from several generations of storage. He walked slowly through the picture frames, lamp shades, and Chia Pets. He had seen it all before. It was a routine he didn't look forward to. But, these days, he thought, he didn't seem to have much to look forward to anyway. He had looked so many times, he didn't think he'd find it. He figured if past performance is any indication of future results, he was already doomed to failure. Something he thought often. But, he could think of worse things he could be doing.

As Leroy carefully moved the small beam over the rubble he saw a glimmer from behind a pile of ammunition. Funny, he thought, all these years and he had walked right by without having seen it. It was an ornate, wooden chest adorned with what appeared to be gold. If it was gold, he thought, it would be the most valuable thing up here. So, he knelt down to take a closer look. From the side, his flashlight revealed the carving of a woman carrying some type of instrument. He blew to remove any dust and was surprised that there wasn't any. He had lived in the house alone for a decade, he thought, it must have always been here.

A glow creeped through the crack as he started to open it. He held it barely ajar for several moments unable to lift higher, but also unable to close it. Gradually the curse of curiosity overpowered his slight terror and he garnered enough courage to continue. By the time the cover was all the way back his cheeks and forehead were bright with the reflection of its contents.

Leroy never considered himself much of a judge of beauty, but he imagined that if there was such a thing, this was it. Perhaps he had seen such things in his dreams, but he might be giving his dreams too much credit. He didn't like to obsess over stuff. He had always had this feeling that the more you wanted something the less likely you'd find it. But, he knew, somehow, that this particular thing wasn't going away. If you could call it a thing.

He slowly closed the box and the room became dark other than the dim beam of the flashlight. Leroy walked back to the attic's entrance, wondering what he had been looking for. He was amused that moments earlier he figured a box could be the most valuable thing in the room.