The Book by M. Clifford

unrelated acts that led to his beginning – a curious greed that forced him to accept a side job from an enchantingly worried elderly man named Winston and a lack of social skills that led to the discovery of the page from his favorite book. He thought, of course, that the answers awaiting him that morning would be simple. This was a gross error in expectation.
    General Fire Protection had kept Holden constantly busy. His free time was limited because he often worked late into the evening. Even his weekends were detained for emergency calls and random side jobs that were too good to pass up. He made enough money to live well, if he chose to, but he was too cautious to enjoy it. You never know when Uncle Sam is gonna take a bite out of ya. It was good to feel a sense of security, no matter how false it was. But with such little free time available, it was better for Holden to turn down side jobs that weren’t worth the effort.
    For that reason, when he was approached by an elderly man about a side job a year prior during his break at a café in Wilmette, Holden did his best to get rid of him so he could get back to his van and return to work. Fortunately, he hadn’t been able to. There was a deceptive persistence in the man who had eagerly introduced himself as Winston. Although his face was innocent and his manner gentle, Winston chose to place his walker fully between Holden and the door. Behind frail, thin glasses were two of the most active eyes Holden had ever seen. While Winston explained that he had seen Holden a few times that week and had noticed the emblem of a sprinkler head on the side of his clunky work van, Holden watched the man’s beady, gray eyes analyze his own. It was obvious that there was more happening at that moment than the man led him to believe.
    “Well, I’m a wealthy man and I need to protect my house,” Winston continued, as he labored to recycle his plastic coffee cup. “I don’t move as well as I used to and if a fire erupted somewhere in my home, I fear I would be unable to put it out. The items within it are very precious to me.”
    The man had one and a half feet in the grave. Holden had to laugh. You can’t take it with you buddy.
    He tried to pass Winston onto someone from General Fire, but Winston continued. The man wanted Holden, and no one else, to do the work. When Holden pressed him for an explanation, the man dodged the question with ease. In an effort to end the conversation, Holden finally threw out a disgracefully high quote, assuming that the man would abruptly disengage and allow him to finish his croissant in the van. This was the moment when their conversation became the most memorable. Instead of responding, Winston asked Holden his name. When he replied, the man’s tender face brightened and he lost five years of age in a smile before speaking the words Holden would never forget, “Double it and the job is yours.” As Holden attempted to regain his composure, the man removed his copy of The Book from a satchel bag and rested the corner against Holden’s copy, transferring his contact information to Holden’s screen. “I expect you’ll be professional,” Winston continued, “because I intend to leave this off the books and pay you up front…in cash.”
    Cash.
    It was the only form of paper that was still legal. Really, the only use for paper anymore. All money was composed of synthetic material, but it was the paper element that proved authenticity. With the limitless technological advancements, anyone with a computer could create counterfeit money if it weren’t for the integration of paper. Paper was so expensive, especially clean, bleached paper, that it was nearly worth more than the bill itself. Cash was unforgable. Cash was untraceable. Receiving such an amount for a side job that was completely off the books was nearly impossible to pass up.
    Holden slammed on his brakes and the van rocked to an abrupt stop as an over-eager driver tore out of their