The million dollar letter

Click click click!

My finger spammed my computer mouse like my life depended on it. My eyes, glued to my monitor for as long as I could remember, were turning red upon the sight of my reflection on-screen. I noticed that eye bags were also developing, and my stomach growled as fierce as a bear.

Yet I ignored how tired and hungry I was and continued my task: building my website to showcase my manga art portfolio.

Yes, that’s right. It was time for me to revitalize my manga art career.

It had already been a week since I came back from that horrid trip to the barber. My encounter with that manga shopkeeper still painted vivid images within my head: his greedy face, the book with my art in it, and his shocked expression after he found out the art was mine.

Just the mere thought of it had my hands squeezing my mouse tighter.

“I need to make money off of my stuff,” I muttered. “And stop people from stealing my artwork.”

Click!

My eyes darted back and forth between my monitor and my iPad, which sat horizontally in front of me. I held my iPad pen in-between my fingers while adding the finishing touches to my site. Indeed, not only did I start right away in developing my online portfolio after I got home that day, but I also began drawing my own manga.

I pulled up Twitter; it had been over a year since I last tweeted anything with my artist account. I scrolled down my own page and sighed while seeing the past art I used to post. I only had a couple hundred followers, but they were genuine. Every post containing manga or anime-related art I created drew in at least a dozen or so likes and retweets.

Just as I began drafting a post to announce my comeback with a new manga series, my stomach growled larger than ever, forcing me to clutch it. Glimpsing over to my closet, I scoffed at the sight of an empty ramen box. I had also finished most of the food in the kitchen, and since my aunt was still out on her business trip, it was up to me to buy something.

Yeah, screw that…

I reached over for my phone on my bed and pulled up a food delivery app, which was right on the first page of my homescreen. I then hopped on my bed and laid down to browse my food options. There was just no way I was headed outside again after last week’s ordeal. No. No freaking way.

Ring ring!

“Ouch!”

My body twitched as my phone landed on my face while I laid down on my bed. It rang like an alarm and buzzed against my nose, which began bleeding. A sigh of relief followed next as I confirmed it was just my aunt calling me.

“Ugh, hello?” I answered while reaching for a tissue.

“Rin!” my aunt yelled, forcing me to squeeze my eyes and pull my phone away from my face.

“Y-Yes?”

“Rin, are you doing okay by yourself? How has the past week been?”

“I’m doing okay, no need to worry about me.”

“Great to hear. Listen…mind doing me a favor? There’s a letter downstairs next to the kitchen cabinet, and I forgot to send it out last week before I left. Do you think you can do that for me?”

My body froze up like ice. This request came out of left field. Just as the thought of never stepping outside overwhelmed me with serotonin, this aunt of mine just had to time it perfectly to ruin my day.

“Uh…” I began to reply, unsure of how to decline her.

“Listen, Rin. It’s just a letter, and all you have to do is step into the convenience store around the corner, mail it out, and leave.”

I closed my mouth and sat up. It took me a second to realize my feet had fallen asleep.

“Hello, Rin?”

“Y-Yes.”

“So you’ll do it? Great! Let me know when you’ve mailed it.”

“H-Hold on!”

Beep!

I couldn’t believe it. She hung up on me, thinking I was actually going out again to run an errand for her. Well, it’s not exactly far…

In fact, the nearest convenience store where I could mail her letter was literally just down the block; a two-minute walk at most. If I couldn’t handle this, then my life as a hikikomori would be cemented forever.

Of course I didn’t want that to happen. Of course I wanted to become social again. It’s just difficult, and no one would understand the difficulty except yours truly, who now exited his room in search of his aunt’s letter.

The paper, which was already ready inside a white envelope with a stamp and our house address on the outside, sat out in the open near the kitchen cabinet, just as my aunt described. It looked like it was begging to be moved and mailed.

My eyes then shifted to my shoes and facemask, which of course haven’t been worn since last week’s horrid trip. Did I really want to do this to myself again?

After a series of gulps, I changed clothes to normal summer wear to match my sneakers: a gray T-shirt with a ramen graphic in the center, black shorts, even a baseball cap. My hair still stretched to my shoulders, but no one would think I was a hikikomori in this outfit. I glanced at the mirror one final time before departing out to hell.

Huh, I don’t look too shabby, I thought. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all.

Stepping outside, I felt a cool breeze against my neck, which calmed me. The sun didn’t beat down on me like it did last Sunday, and fewer strangers were out and about down the streets from afar.

I can do it.

I can really get this done. It’s just a letter, after all.

My feet moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was already half-way down the street to the convenience store. One quick step inside, and my mailing errand would be checked off.

As I neared the store, my pace slowed down; a larger crowd than expected was inside, and a line for the checkout had formed, stretching up to the entrance. I scoffed in reaction and approached the side of the building slowly, ensuring I stayed within the shadows. Even if there was a large crowd, all I had to do was drop the letter into the mailbox.

I glimpsed down at the letter I was holding. Now that I think about it, I wonder what my aunt has to mail out. Never had I ever seen her mail something physical.

“Huh?” I muttered. The envelope lid was already starting to detach itself from the rest of the body. Just how did my aunt seal it in the first place?!

Giving into curiosity while I waited for the crowd to die down, I opened the envelope without much effort. A single piece of paper, folded into thirds, was found with a large “The format to address issues to OTO” title near the top.

What’s an OTO? I wondered, and expanded the paper. My eyes widened immediately, and I suddenly found myself crouched down in the shade behind the convenience store, glancing menacingly at my aunt’s letter. W-What the hell?!

The only reason I even stepped out was because I had thought my aunt’s career was on the line if I didn’t send her letter out. Instead, my aunt was filing an official complaint about the terrible customer service she received at the hair salon she visited last week at Minato Mirai.