The lawyer’s office was cold and crowded.
Mitchell sat in a chair in the back. behind all of the adults. He was wearing a suit despite a number of protests. However, he'd worked his tie loose enough that he could breath. But the shoes still hurt. He sat there hoping it would end shortly.
His grandfather’s funeral was a week earlier. It was sad. Everyone cried. He met a million people who knew his name but he had no idea who they were. He immediately forgot who most of them were. His cheeks were pinched until they were raw. He was not a fan of funerals he decided. There were not much fun.
But everyone told the same thing. Over and over again.
“Your grandpa was the luckiest man I’ve ever met.”
And so he learned the legend of his grandfather. He heard about the time he won the local lottery, twice.
And the time at the race track when he couldn’t pick a loser. He once picked the winning horse four races in a row. He went home laughing with a wad of cash in his pocket.
His grandfather wasn’t allowed in the three casinos downtown. His last time there he won a jackpot of his first pull of the lever. Two very large men made it known he wasn't welcomed back.
And so on and so on.
Now, he waited in the office, staring at the ground.
The lawyer was a small quiet man. He was told they were there to find out about his grandfather’s will. Mitchell didn’t know what a will was, but he knew it required wearing a suit so it must be boring.
His things were divided among them. His parents got a considerable bit of money, and his grandfather’s house, but his dad still looked sad. His brother got a vintage corvette, and his sister got his grandmother’s jewelry.
“Is there a Mitchell here?” he heard the lawyer ask.
Everyone turned to look at him, and suddenly he felt smaller than he normally did.
“Now, Mitchell, I don’t know quite how to explain this, but there only thing I have for you is this letter. It reads Dear Mitchell, I’m sorry you were too young for the car. But I’m giving you something else. You’ll understand soon. Good luck, Grandpa.”
Mitchell thought one last letter was pretty cool. Everyone else looked confused, but Mitchell just wanted to go home and change out of the suit.
They were piling into the car when he reached into his pocket, when he felt something in his pocket. He pulled out his favorite pen. He’d been looking for it everywhere. He didn’t think much about it and went home to finally change out of the suit.
But, things kept happening.
He forgot his lunch money the next day, but found twenty dollars on the way to school.
And it kept happening. His teacher canceled a test he completely forgot about.
He won things. He won things often, and his friends were happy as they shared in his new good fortune.
One day, he told his parents about the weird things that kept happening.
Both his parents looked at each other, “That’s what the letter meant,” his father said, “he got the Luck.”
“Your grandpa was the luckiest man anyone ever met. When he passed we hoped the luck would pass to someone. It looks like it’s you.”
“Oh,” Mitchell said, “would either of you like to buy me a lottery ticket?”
And that’s when people started calling Mitchell the luckiest person alive, just like his grandfather.