I was leaving Wendy's when He appeared. Right there, on the sidewalk. Nobody else noticed Him. They just walked around Him. I dropped to my knees and lowered my head. People noticed that. But I was too busy to care. Too busy fighting the nausea, the dizziness. The fast food wasn't helping.
He dropped a briefcase. That's the new thing I meant in the title. After a few minutes, my head cleared. He was gone. The briefcase remained. I picked it up. I knew He wanted me to. He wouldn't have done it otherwise.
Anyway, I have His briefcase right here. It looks sort of like the one I put in above this paragraph. The biggest visible difference is there's no keyhole. It's locked, and it can't be unlocked. Doesn't feel like there's much inside. Oh, but that's the weird part. It doesn't feel like leather. It's cold, even in the hot sun, and it's slippery. I must have dropped it half a dozen times already. It smells bad too, like a hospital.
It's unpleasant and people keep looking at me funny for having it. I don't want to keep it for long. He can have it back, and the sooner the better.
On another unrelated note, for anybody who has contacted me by email or will do so, ignore the name I gave them. It's not mine and never was. Doesn't mean anything either, not like Atalanta.