Last year, I found an old, dusty lamp at a garage sale. The guy selling it claimed it was cursed, but I laughed it off, bought it for $2, and brought it home.
That night, my cat knocked it over, and something inside rattled. I pried it open, expecting coins or something valuable, but instead, I pulled out a tiny, folded note. It simply said, “Check under your bed.” I froze. I live alone.