My grandpa was the stingiest man I knew—reuse-everything stingy, Christmas-socks stingy. So when he died and left me a single coupon for “$100 off any in-store purchase,” I laughed. No expiration date, no store I’d heard of, just a strange triangle logo.
Still, I kept it in my wallet for a week. Eventually, curiosity won.
The store was a dying little place in a strip mall. I grabbed basic items and handed the cashier the coupon. She froze. Her manager examined it like it was radioactive, then took me into a back office and pulled out a binder labeled LEGACY COUPONS — LEVEL 7 CLEARANCE.
Only five had ever been printed, he said. The four previous users had their lives changed—wild luck, strange coincidences, disappearances. “You’re holding the fifth,” he told me.
Shaken, I wandered the aisles until an antique camera caught my eye. I bought it with the coupon.
That night, the camera… woke up.
Clicks with no photos. A car appearing outside. A knock that left only an envelope marked with the coupon’s symbol: Keep taking pictures. Choose carefully.
Then one click threw me into a forest. Another brought me home.
In my grandpa’s old journal, I found his notes:
Not a camera. A key. Captures what could be.
The final photo it produced was of me—older, smiling, holding the camera. Four words written at the bottom:
You are the fifth.
Now, I take pictures sparingly.
Because some opportunities don’t look like miracles.
Sometimes they look like a coupon you almost threw away.
