A Man Receives A Letter

One night, a man received a letter in the mail. It had no envelope, as if someone had simply placed it in the box. Perhaps the mailman? Oh well, it's not like it matters, he was bound to receive the letter some day.

"You have been invited to the Roselock Mansion, where you will meet Simon Roselock and pick your present." Well that was unexpected. Why would Simon Roselock want to meet him? The man flipped the paper to see a single sentence on the back. "Bring nothing but yourself, and do as you will."

Pay had been low recently, so the man took the bus to save on gas. It took a little bit longer, but he had finally reached the Roselock Mansion. The gates were as shiny as when he had first seen them. So many years ago, and the place was still in perfect condition. His old friend hadn't changed at all. But then... what did he need them for?

"What did you do, Simon...?" The man muttered to himself, pushing open the gates. His childhood friend was always the independent, cocky type, so he would only ever request his help if he was in serious trouble. And clearly today was one of those times. The man knocked on the door, only for it to swing open. He took a cautious step in and was met with a well-dressed older man. "Ah, Mr Kaden. We've been expecting you."

"Did Simon mess something up?" The man asked. The older man shook his head, guiding him to the conservatory. Simon Roselock was standing with a drink in hand, facing the windows. "Glad you could make it." Simon turned to face him. "Glad... to be here." The man nodded. "It's been a while, I haven't seen you since you went to..."

The man's words trailed off. Simon gestured to an armchair, and the man took a seat. As Simon poured him a glass of wine, the man observed his surroundings. There were significantly more flowers since the last time he had visited. The man guessed that meant Simon had regained his passion for nature. "You're probably wondering why you're here." Simon took another sip from his glass. "After all, we haven't spoken to each other since... you know, what happened to the rest."

Of all his memories, this one was the most painful. The mere thought of their old friends sent a twist in his gut. It was a horrible incident and caused him and Simon to grow apart. The man cleared his throat, hoping to divert the subject. "Your letter said something about... picking a present?" Simon set down his glass, picking up a small box from the nearby table. "That's right. I figured I should give you this option, for old time's sake." The man's heart jumped in his chest. Simon held out the box, and he took it in his hands. "I'm giving you the choice to pick what happens now. Open the box, or don't." Silence enveloped the room, and the man gulped. So this was why Simon wrote him... "Alright, I'll pick." He choked out, opening the box to see a single sentence inscribed at the bottom. I REMEMBER THE FIRST AND LAST THING YOU SAID TO US.