The former owner of my car called, desperately asking to recover something he had left under the seat — when I found it, I turned pale

When Samira buys a secondhand car at a dealership, she thinks it a victory because it was something she had done all by herself. But the next morning, the mysterious previous owner of the car calls her, claiming that he left something “alive” under the seat of the car. Will Samira meet him or uncover the secret package by herself?

When I first bought my car, it was supposed to be a small victory. I had left my corporate job to take time off to write my collection of short stories. So, I didn’t want to splurge my savings until something big came my way financially.

It was nothing fancy, just a used Toyota Corolla from the local dealership. The thrill of owning it was enough to make me overlook any thoughts about its previous owner. Whoever they were, they were in my past, and I was cruising straight into my future.

Or so I thought.

But then came that random phone call which changed everything.

It was early, around 7 a.m., and I was in the middle of making my morning coffee when my phone buzzed with an unknown number.

Normally, I’d ignore it, but something about early morning and late-night unknown calls made me answer. I didn’t know if someone needed me.

“Hello?” I said, yawning.

“Hi, is this the new owner of the Toyota Corolla?” a man asked, anxiety in his voice.

“Yes, this is her. Who’s speaking?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy.

He took a deep breath.

“Oh, thank goodness! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I was the previous owner of the car, and I left something under the seat of the car when I gave it in yesterday morning. You picked it up yesterday, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied, confused about what he was getting at.

“Okay. Good,” he paused. “I need to get my hands on what I left behind. It’s really important. It’s urgent, really.”

What on earth could be so important that he would track me down like this? Was the dealership even allowed to give out personal information?

“What did you leave?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“It’s something… alive,” he stammered. “Please, ma’am, I need to come and get it as soon as possible. I promise you, I’ll explain when I see you.”

I remained silent for a moment.

Alive? The word echoed loudly in my mind. Was this man serious? What alive thing could possibly be in the car? My mind raced between a baby to a dog to even a package of narcotics that he was brushing off as something alive.

But I knew that I would have noticed something like that.

“Do you want to meet me somewhere or give me your address?” he continued.

I should have probably said no to all of the above. But there was something about him and the panic in his voice that made me hesitate to say no.

“Okay,” I finally said, my voice more firm than I felt. “Come over to my neighborhood. There’s a park not too far away from where I live. I’ll meet you there. I’ll send the address to this number.”

“That’s perfect,” he said, sighing in relief. “Don’t worry, it’s contained for now.”

I hung up and stared at my phone.

“What are you doing, Samira?” I asked myself. “Are you really going to meet a random person?”

But, what would be alive under my seat? My thoughts darted to worse-case scenarios again. What if it was a dangerous animal?

I had no idea what to expect, and that’s what made me nervous.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing next to the Corolla in the cool morning air, waiting for the mysterious stranger to show up.

The neighborhood was still quiet, and I imagined everyone in their homes slowly waking up or making breakfast for their families.

Finally, a man pulled up in an old pickup truck, just as he had texted me to say he would. His eyes scanned the area nervously before landing on me.

“I’m Ben,” he said. “Thank you for letting me come.”

He was younger than I imagined, and probably in his late twenties like myself, with dark hair that looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

There was something endearing about his disheveled appearance, though I could tell he was genuinely worried.

Stop it, Samira, I told myself. This isn’t one of your romantic comedy stories. This isn’t a meet-cute.

“No problem,” I replied. “I’m Samira. So, what exactly did you leave under the seat?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he opened the driver’s door and dropped to his knees beside the car and reached under the seat. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, Ben pulled out a small, sealed box with tiny air holes punched into the top. My stomach did a flip as I imagined a tarantula inside the box.

“I’m really sorry to bother you like this,” he said, standing up and holding the box.

“What’s in there?” I asked, almost amused.

“I have a pet gecko at home, and I feed it live insects every day. Yesterday, I stopped at the pet store to pick up some food, including mealworms and roaches, but I must have left the box under the seat when I was unloading the car.”

It took a moment for his words to register with me.

“You left a box of live insects under the seat?” I asked.

“Not by choice,” he replied sheepishly. “I was late to hand over the car as well. So the moment I unloaded everything else at home, I rushed over to the dealership to leave the car… for you.”

“You’re lucky that they didn’t escape,” I said.

Suddenly, a laugh bubbled up inside me before I could stop it, and once it started, it was hard to stop.

He looked at me, confused for a second, before a grin spread across his face.

“I know, it’s ridiculous, right?” he said. “I was so freaked out that I couldn’t even sleep. I kept imagining them crawling around your car, and I just…”

“My goodness,” I exclaimed. “That would have been quite the surprise.”

The thought of driving around with a box full of escaped bugs lurking somewhere under the seat was both horrifying and hilarious.

“I’m really sorry, Samira,” he said, his grin fading into something more genuine. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t know what else to do. The gecko, Samson, is actually my little brother’s pet. And as wacky as it is, that kid loves it.”

“No judgment here,” I replied. “I had a pet frog for a solid two weeks as a kid until my mother found it bouncing around my room.”

That was enough to set us both off again. We laughed until tears ran down our faces.

“Let me make it up to you,” he blurted out suddenly. “How about I take you out for a coffee? As an apology for the… bug thing?”

I stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden offer. I hadn’t expected any of this. But at the same time, I felt like I was in one of the romance stories that I wrote.

There was just something about the way he asked, something genuine and a little bit hopeful.

“I… um,” I started to say. “Sure, why not?”

“Great!” he said, his face lighting up. “I know a place not too far away from here. Would you like to go now?”

I laughed at his enthusiasm.

“How about you take me to a car wash to wash away any bugs and my paranoia, and then we can grab a coffee?” I asked, half-joking, half-serious.

“Actually, that’s the least I can do,” he said. “Come on.”

Ben put the box of insects in his truck and locked the door. I threw my keys at him, which he caught perfectly.

As we drove to the car wash, Ben told me all about his little brother, who was living with him.

“There’s a big age gap between us,” he said. “But there’s a really good school two roads away from me. So he’s enrolled there.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, watching his hands on the steering wheel. “I wish I had a younger sibling to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

When we got to the car wash, Ben ensured that we would take the full package.

“Give her a good wash, guys,” he said.

We went for coffee while the car was being attended to.

And I wondered what was going to happen next…

What would you have done?

Poor Mom Lives in Old Trailer with Son and Never Lets Anyone in until She Gets Hospitalized

Before she passes out and is taken to the hospital, an impoverished woman never lets anyone inside her run-down trailer. Her life is ultimately altered irrevocably by the subsequent events.

“Hey, young one! Keep away from him! Barbara let out a scream and hurried to where her son Timothy was playing with a child called Harry. “You have no right to come play with my son here. He doesn’t associate with weirdos and recluses!

“Mum!” Timothy started to cry. “That’s not Harry at all! I invited him to play with me and the other kids from the neighborhood because we are friends.

“Stop talking, Tim! You’re not aware of the potential risk that some people pose. You are aware that his mother is a deranged person who never allows anyone to be around her or enter her ridiculous trailer? How often have I told you not to go visit him already?

“Please, mom! It’s a nice boy, Harry. Simply said, we Harry cut Timothy off just as he was getting started.

“Don’t worry, Tim. He turned to face Barbara and said, “My mom says that mothers are always right, but Mrs. Anderson.” “My mother is a sweetheart. She is so afraid that she won’t let anyone into our trailer.

“Afraid?” Barbara gave him a sardonic chuckle. “We ought to be terrified of her! She must be planning something shady! Anyway, remember this, child: you will never again play with my son! Did you get the message?

Harry became so overcome with emotion that he was unable to talk. He ran out of the park to where he always parked his old white trailer, beneath a parched tree that marked the edge of a woodland that connected two suburbs.

Tracy, his mother, became concerned when she noticed he was sobbing all the time. “Honey, what’s the issue? What’s causing your tears? Are you in pain?

Harry sobbed, “It was one of our neighbors again, mom.” “Mom, they call you names all the time. I detest that! I detest all of them!

Tracy gave him a hug and whispered, “Oh, honey.” “Never harbor hatred for someone. People tend to say hurtful things when they’re upset. It implies neither that they despise you nor…

“No, mother! You’re not getting it! Harry shot back. They have no interest in comprehending you, myself, or anybody else. Are you even aware of the events of today? Mrs. Anderson advised me not to play with Timothy because I’m a hermit’s son and called you a recluse. Mom, please let’s get out of this town. I wish to leave this place.

Tracy was at a loss for words at that time. She was unable to inform Harry that her supervisor had sacked her that very afternoon and that her savings were running low. There was a moment before she said, “Honey.” “Maybe we should put off making a decision until the following month?”

“But why, mother? Why should we put up with their taunts? The boy became irrational. “Aww…all right, just do what you want! He moaned, “I want to spend some time alone,” and turned to leave.

Tracy started crying as soon as Harry departed. She berated herself for being an awful mother and a failure in life who had let her son down in addition to herself. She got up slowly and went to her bed, where she sobbed while holding a picture of Harry. Before long, she was fast asleep and unable to think of anything.

Harry returned to the trailer after nearly an hour had passed. “On my way back, Mom, I picked up some bread.” Would you kindly prepare the french toast for tomorrow morning? As he walked in and shut the door, he said.

Tracy was sleeping on the bed when he discovered something strange about the way she was lying there. “Mum? After asking, “Did you have dinner?” and giving her a little shake, Tracy ended up on the ground. “Mum! What took place? Let your eyes open! As the youngster realized his mother was not breathing, he began to cry.

He swiftly looked for Tracy’s phone and made a 911 call. Tracy was hauled away by the ambulance after a short while, which seemed like an eternity to the little kid. Harry sobbed while sitting outside the trailer, covering his face with his hands.

A voice suddenly cut him off. “Boy, what are you doing here by yourself? What happened to your mother?

Harry observed an older woman standing in front of him when he looked up. She smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I often see you and your mother here before I leave for work, so I know you two.” “Is everything in order?”

Harry felt a tiny bit of relief. “Mom fainted and was taken to the hospital.” I’m concerned for her.

The woman let out a gasp. “Don’t worry, she will be alright. Did they let you know which hospital they brought her to?

Yes, they provided me with a number and address. They wouldn’t let me accompany her because I’m a minor.

What if you spent the evening at my house? Tomorrow morning, we can visit her.

“However,” Harry faltered. “Why do you assist me? Our neighbors don’t think well of us. Do you not also believe that we are?

The woman started giggling. Harry, try not to let stuff like this affect you. In some manner, everyone is cruel.

“How did you know my name, wow?” Never before have we…

“Well, when I get home late from work, I see that you’re playing around here a lot.” You refuse to go back and sleep despite your mother’s persistent pleas.

“Oh!” With a smirk, Harry embarrassedly rubbed the back of his head. “I apologize; I didn’t adequately introduce myself. Harry Stevens is who I am.

“Hello Harry, nice to meet you. You may address me as Mrs. Taylor. So, are you interested in coming to supper with me tonight?

The boy said, “Sure,” and went with Mrs. Taylor to her house. The boy stayed at her residence that night after they had dinner together. Tracy had fainted from stress and tiredness, they found out when they went to see her the next day. Mrs. Taylor took over to take after Harry while she was in the hospital, as the doctors predicted she would be there for some time.

“Ma’am, you have my sincere gratitude,” Tracy remarked to Mrs. Taylor. “I’m very happy Harry is doing well. She turned to Harry and said, “Honey, would you please wait outside while I speak with Mrs. Taylor?” “I have important things to talk about.”

Yes, mother.

Tracy burst into tears as Harry left. “We appreciate your assistance, ma’am. We are truly unable to repay your kindness.

“I’ve seen you by yourself quite a bit. How come you don’t interact with your neighbors? Although they can be bothersome occasionally, they aren’t too bad.

“Mrs. Taylor, I don’t blame them for treating me badly. I kept quiet about my living situation since I felt ashamed of it. Being an orphan, I was sure I could care for my son after my spouse passed away, but things didn’t work out. We had to get out of our big mansion and drive a little car. I used to be a waitress in a restaurant to help support my son while I was a struggling writer, but I got fired yesterday for being consistently late to work. I’m just a failure, nothing more. Kindly accept Harry. I am unable to care for him. Would you please…I simply want to stop living!” She sobbed uncontrollably.

“You ought not to say that! In all time! For now, concentrate on recovering quickly! Young lady, you never know where life will lead you!

Mrs. Taylor was correct, of course, when she emphasized that anything can happen in life at any time.

Sitting at a table, Tracy autographed copies of “The Woman: Life Through the Odds,” her debut book, which was already a New York Times bestseller. There was a sizable group waiting for her to sign the copies, and she was resplendent in a suit.

This day, exactly a year ago, she had come home from the hospital. Mrs. Taylor started a GoFundMe page to gather money to help her and Harry when she saw how horrible the conditions were inside her mobile home.

That gave Tracy the willpower to start over after she had earlier wanted to give up on everything and consider herself a failure. She began working as a waitress on the weekends and as a freelance writer during the week after renting a tiny home. She would write her book all night long, and nine months later, it was eventually published. Harry was able to attend a better school thanks to her, and Mrs. Taylor—who had previously been unknown to them—became both her mother and Harry’s grandmother.

As Tracy was about to leave her book signing, she thought back on how her life had altered. She pulled out to find a black automobile waiting for her. Anderson Brown, her fiancé, got out of the car and held the door open for her.

It was at Harry’s school that Tracy had first encountered him. She fell in love with him right away; he was a widower with a daughter. He asked her to marry him shortly after, and she accepted.

After Tracy took a seat in the front seat, they drove home to their daughter and son and their new roommate, Mrs. Taylor. On her walk home, she said a little prayer to God, giving thanks for everything.

What lessons may we draw from this tale?

We must exercise patience and seek out the bright side. When things get tough, we start to lose hope, just like Tracy. However, we must never lose sight of the truth that, with enough confidence, we can conquer any challenge. With Mrs. Taylor’s help, Tracy made a fresh start and is today a well-known author.
A book shouldn’t be judged by its cover. Because she was ashamed of her living situation, Tracey never opened her door to others, but they misinterpreted her and called her all kinds of nasty names.

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