When I bought my secondhand car, a modest Toyota Corolla from a local dealership, I felt a sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t anything flashy, but it was mine, and I had done it all by myself. After leaving my corporate job to focus on writing a collection of short stories, I was mindful of my spending, so this car was the perfect choice. I was ready to move forward, leaving any thoughts of the car’s previous owner behind.

Or so I thought.

The next morning, everything changed. I was in the middle of making my morning coffee when my phone buzzed with an unknown number. Normally, I’d ignore it, but something about early morning calls always makes me curious. I answered, still groggy.

“Hello?” I said with a yawn.

“Hi, is this the new owner of the Toyota Corolla?” a man’s voice asked, sounding anxious.

“Yes, it is. Who’s speaking?” I replied, suddenly feeling uneasy.

He took a deep breath. “Oh, thank goodness! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help. I was the previous owner of the car, and I left something under the seat when I turned it in yesterday. You picked it up yesterday, right?”

“Uh, yes,” I answered, now more confused than ever.

“Okay, good,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “I need to get it back. It’s really important. It’s urgent, actually.”

My mind raced. What could be so important that he’d track me down like this? Was the dealership even allowed to give out my information?

“What did you leave?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

“It’s something… alive,” he stammered. “Please, I need to come and get it as soon as possible. I promise I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

Alive? The word echoed in my head. What on earth could he have left under the seat? My thoughts jumped to all sorts of possibilities—none of them comforting.

“Do you want to meet me somewhere, or should I give you my address?” he continued.

I should have said no. Everything about this situation screamed caution. But there was something in his voice, a genuine panic, that made me hesitate.

“Okay,” I finally said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Come to my neighborhood. There’s a park nearby. I’ll meet you there and send you the address.”

“That’s perfect,” he said, sighing in relief. “Don’t worry, it’s contained for now.”

I hung up and stared at my phone, questioning my decision. What was I thinking, agreeing to meet a complete stranger? And what could possibly be alive under my seat?

Twenty minutes later, I stood next to my Corolla in the cool morning air, waiting for this mysterious stranger. The neighborhood was still quiet, with everyone likely still at home, starting their day. Finally, an old pickup truck pulled up, just as he had described. The driver, a man in his late twenties with dark, tousled hair, looked around nervously before spotting me.

“I’m Ben,” he said, stepping out of the truck. “Thanks for letting me come.”

He was younger than I had imagined, and there was something about his disheveled appearance that was oddly endearing. But I reminded myself this wasn’t some romantic comedy—it was real life.

“No problem,” I replied. “I’m Samira. So, what exactly did you leave under the seat?”

Instead of answering, he dropped to his knees beside the car and reached under the driver’s seat. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, he pulled out a small, sealed box with tiny air holes punched into the top. My stomach did a flip as I imagined all sorts of creepy crawlies inside.

“I’m really sorry to bother you like this,” Ben said, standing up with the box in hand.

“What’s in there?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I have a pet gecko at home,” he explained sheepishly, “and I feed it live insects. Yesterday, I bought some mealworms and roaches for it, but I must have left the box under the seat when I was unloading the car.”

It took a second for his words to sink in.

“You left a box of live insects under the seat?” I asked, incredulous.

“Not on purpose,” he replied, looking genuinely embarrassed. “I was in a rush to turn in the car. I didn’t realize I’d left it until later, and I’ve been freaking out ever since, imagining them loose in the car.”

A laugh bubbled up inside me, and once it started, I couldn’t stop. The thought of driving around with escaped bugs under the seat was both horrifying and hilarious.

Ben looked relieved as he joined in the laughter. “I know, it’s ridiculous, right? I didn’t sleep all night, thinking about it.”

“Well, you’re lucky they didn’t escape,” I said, still chuckling.

He smiled, then turned serious. “I’m really sorry, Samira. I didn’t mean to scare you. The gecko belongs to my little brother, and as weird as it sounds, he really loves that thing.”

“No judgment here,” I replied. “I had a pet frog for two weeks as a kid until my mom found it hopping around my room.”

That set us both off laughing again until tears streamed down our faces. Then, suddenly, Ben blurted out, “Let me make it up to you. How about I take you out for coffee? As an apology for the… bug thing?”

I stared at him, caught off guard. This wasn’t what I expected, but there was something genuine about his offer.

“I… sure, why not?” I found myself saying.

“Great!” he said, his face lighting up. “There’s a place nearby. Want to go now?”

“How about you take me to a car wash first to clear out any bugs and my paranoia, and then we can grab that coffee?” I joked, half-serious.

“Deal,” he said, smiling. He put the box of insects in his truck and locked the door, then caught the keys I tossed to him as we headed to the car wash.

As we drove, Ben told me about his younger brother, who lived with him. “There’s a big age gap between us, but he’s enrolled at a great school nearby. I’m just trying to do right by him.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, watching his hands on the steering wheel. “I wish I had a younger sibling to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

When we arrived at the car wash, Ben made sure we got the full package, insisting, “Give her a good wash, guys.”

As we left for coffee while the car was being cleaned, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next.