Chapter 1 - The Brave Request
“Which one of you is Mack?”
Every single man at the diner booth instantly stopped eating. The heavy clinking of silverware ceased, replaced by a thick, intimidating silence.
Standing beside the table of four massive, heavily tattooed motorcycle riders was a boy who couldn’t have been more than nine years old. He wore faded jeans, an oversized blue sweatshirt that looked like it belonged to an adult, and his small, trembling hands were tightly wrapped around the handle of an old, battered red metal lunchbox.
The bikers wore heavy leather work vests and thick boots. They looked like men who broke bones for a living.
The biggest man among them, sitting in the center with broad shoulders and a thick silver beard, slowly lowered his black coffee. He looked at the trembling child with cold, weathered eyes.
“That’s me,” the man rumbled, his voice like grinding gravel.
The little boy swallowed hard, refusing to step back. “Mack? Mack Harris?”
“Yeah,” Mack answered, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s asking?”
“My name is Eli,” the boy said, his voice shaking but brave. He slowly lifted the red metal lunchbox and placed it directly onto the diner table, right next to Mack’s plate. “My grandpa told me to give you this.”
Mack’s hardened expression instantly shifted. He looked at the rusted box, then back at the boy. “Your grandpa?”
Eli didn't say another word. He just reached out and popped the metal latch.
CLICK.
There was no food inside. No sandwich. No juice box. Instead, the lunchbox contained an old, dirty pair of brown leather work gloves, a folded, faded photograph, and a small, sealed yellow envelope.
One of the bikers beside Mack completely stopped chewing his food. The air in the diner suddenly felt incredibly heavy.
May you like
Mack stared at the gloves. A triangular patch of bright red fabric had been crudely sewn across the left wrist. His weathered hands began to tremble as he reached for them.
👉 What dark memory is attached to those blood-stained gloves?
