As I shimmy the cut plastic bottle along the seam between the locked door and the safe body, I hear a soft click. Upon hearing this, I breathe a sigh of relief. I open the case held inside to reveal the precision-machined beauty. Its matte finish sheens beautifully in the afternoon light.
After clicking everything in place, I set it aside on the carpeted floor. My heart is racing but my mind is still. I type one last message and, after a brief pause, send it.
Almost immediately, a call comes back. I hesitate, wondering whether to accept it.
As I patch her through, a panicked voice bursts through. "Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
I only respond with a loud bang.
The rest is a blur, but all I can remember is faint hystericalsobbing.
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