I never wanted to be a criminal.

But I guess it’s not on the wishlist of many people either.

Every day I drove from the same run-down apartment to the parking garage downtown. Then I would walk ten more minutes to my office building.

Everyday I would sit in the same, boring cubicle for eight hours. Then I would walk back to my car and drive home.

And everyday I would repeat. Go about my same morning routine and hope that something would change.

One sunny afternoon in October, I was heading back to my car and noticed a piece of paper tucked underneath the wiper.

My first thought was that I had forgotten my parking pass and was given a ticket.

I got closer, and I picked it up. It was a letter.

A letter sealed with a fancy wax stamp. It had a peakcock engrained in it.

I hopped in my car and did what any sane person would do.

I opened it.

Do as this letter says and burn it. Or discard of it in the waste bin at the front of the parking garage.

I flipped over the paper and saw a fifty dollar bill taped to the back.

There’s more where this came from.

The words were etched in red.

Fifty dollars was a lot to me right now. Especially if there was even more.

I flipped the paper over and read the directions. On the fourth level of the parkade there was a linen bag. I was not to open it and deliver it to the laundromat’s five blocks away.

And then I had to burn the letter.

I took the bag.

I stashed it the trunk of my car and I drove off.

Money was money was money.

The laudromat really wasn’t that far, but it wasn’t in a place I’d usually go to.

I grabbed the bag from my trunk and walked through the door as it make a ding.

The lady at the desk didn’t ask any questions, she just pointed to where I was supposed to place the bag and I let.

She said it was already pre-paid.

As soon as I made it home I placed the crisp fifty in my emergency fund. A small box hidden behind the cans in my pantry.

I grabbed a lighter and lit the letter on fire.

I watched as the flames danced and danced, around and around.

As the flames started to curl around my fingers, I dropped it into a bucket.

I smiled at what I had done today.

It was different, exciting, and I made money.

The next day after work I found an envelope left on my tire.

I opened it and found a wad of cash.

More than I had expected, but I wasn’t complaining.

I didn’t get another letter for a week.

It was the same thing. Take the bag. Drop it off at the laundromat’s. Get cash later.

But this time it was a different laundromat.

And so it continued.

Once a week I would deliver a bag, always to a different laundromat. And the next day I would always receive an envelope of cash.

I was making more in four runs than I did in two months.

I was now saving up to move out of my dump, and into a place that wasn’t falling apart. A place respectable enough to invite family and friends over.

Within three months, I was able to move out.

Then the letters started to change.

Now it wasn’t a bag.

It was a box, or a crate.

And I went to many different places.

A restaurant, a bar, a fancy house. All sorts of places.

Real fancy places.

By this point I started to wonder who I was doing this all for.

But the thought never lasted too long, because the cash kept getting more and more.

One day I got another letter that came with a bag. Addressed to me.

It said to wear the clothes in the bag and meet at an address.

I didn’t know where it was.

So I hopped in my car and drove to the nearest gas station. I ran to the bathroom and changed into the clothes.

Fancy. High end.

It made me look like I deserved the money.

Like I was someone important.

I fixed my hair and ran back to my car.

Then I drove on.

I came upon a fancy cocktail bar. The place rich people go to waste their days and make fun of all the poor.

The kind of place where a valet came and took away my car.

The kind of place where a doorman greeted me and held open the door.

The kind of place where I felt I belonged.

I didn’t know who I was looking for. I walked around the room scanning faces.

My eyes fell on a man sitting at the bar. His dark eyes caught mine from across the room and I walked in his direction.

There was an empty seat beside him, and two cocktails.

One for himself, and one for me.

I took a seat and he smiled.

A cool an un-caring smile.

I smiled back.

And then I said the three words that I so longed for. The ones that meant the world to me.

“I want in.”