Something Alive Under the Seat
When I bought my secondhand car, I thought I had just won a small battle. It wasn’t just about the car—it was about doing something completely on my own.
I had recently left my high-stress corporate job to focus on my dream: writing a collection of short stories. I didn’t want to spend too much of my savings unless I had to. So, I found a simple used Toyota Corolla at a local dealership. It wasn’t shiny or luxurious, but it was mine—and that felt like freedom.
I didn’t care about who owned it before. Their chapter was over. I was starting my own story now.
Or so I believed.
The next morning started out just like any other. I was yawning in the kitchen, waiting for my coffee to finish brewing, when my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.
Normally, I don’t answer those. But something about early morning unknown calls always makes me nervous. What if someone needed help?
“Hello?” I answered, rubbing my eyes.
“Hi, is this the new owner of the Toyota Corolla?” a man’s voice asked, slightly breathless, with a hint of panic.
“Yes, this is her. Who’s speaking?” I asked, suddenly wide awake. My stomach tightened.
He paused for a second, then let out a shaky breath. “Oh, thank goodness! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I really need your help. I was the previous owner of the car, and I left something under the seat when I dropped it off yesterday. You picked it up, right?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I picked it up yesterday.”
“Okay, good,” he said, clearly relieved. “I need to get what I left behind. It’s really important. It’s urgent. Like… very urgent.”
That’s when my brain started racing. What could be so important that he was calling me first thing in the morning?
“What did you leave?” I asked, trying to stay calm but already feeling nervous.
“It’s… it’s something alive,” he said, voice shaky now. “Please, ma’am, I need to come get it right away. I promise I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
Alive? The word echoed in my head like a warning bell. My eyes widened. My mind jumped from one terrifying thought to another. A puppy? A snake? A baby?
“You want to meet me somewhere? Or should I give you my address?” he asked again.
Every part of me screamed don’t do it. But there was something in his voice. That desperation. That fear. I couldn’t explain why, but I felt like I had to help.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Come to my neighborhood. There’s a park nearby. I’ll meet you there. I’ll send you the address.”
“That’s perfect,” he said, a wave of relief in his tone. “Don’t worry—it’s contained for now.”
I hung up, staring at my phone. Then I muttered to myself, “What are you doing, Samira? Are you seriously meeting a random guy who says he left something alive in your car?”
I quickly dressed, threw on a hoodie and jeans, and grabbed my keys. I still had no idea what to expect. Part of me hoped it was a prank. Part of me feared it was something deadly.
What if it was a venomous animal?
What if it was something illegal?
I stepped outside, the air still crisp from the morning chill, and waited beside my Corolla in the quiet neighborhood park. The sun was just starting to peek through the trees, casting soft golden light across the empty sidewalk.
Then I saw him. A beat-up old pickup truck pulled in. A young man stepped out. He looked about my age—late twenties—with messy dark hair like he’d been running his hands through it all night. He looked around nervously before walking toward me.
“I’m Ben,” he said, stopping a few feet away. “Thank you for letting me come.”
There was something about his frazzled look that felt oddly honest. Like he’d genuinely been worried. His eyes were tired but sincere.
“No problem,” I replied. “I’m Samira. So… what exactly did you leave under the seat?”
Instead of answering, he walked over to the driver’s side and knelt down. He reached under the seat, his arm moving around like he was fishing for treasure.
Then he pulled out a small, plastic container. It had holes poked into the top—air holes.
I felt my stomach flip.
Please don’t be a spider. Please don’t be a snake. Please don’t be some demon insect.
“I’m really sorry to bother you like this,” Ben said, standing up and holding the box carefully in both hands.
“What’s in there?” I asked, nervous but also kind of amused.
“I have a pet gecko at home,” he began. “I feed it live insects. Yesterday I went to the pet store to grab some food—mealworms and roaches—and I must’ve left the box under the seat when I was unloading.”
I blinked. “You left a box of live insects under the seat?”
“Not on purpose!” he said quickly, embarrassed. “I was in a rush to get to the dealership. I was already late, so when I got home, I dropped everything else off and drove straight back to hand in the car… for you.”
“You’re lucky they didn’t escape,” I said, half horrified.
I pictured hundreds of tiny bugs crawling across my car seats in the middle of the night. That was the final straw. I couldn’t help it—I burst out laughing.
And once I started, I couldn’t stop.
Ben looked confused for a second, then he started laughing too.
“I know, it’s ridiculous, right?” he said through his laughter. “I didn’t sleep at all. I kept imagining them loose in your car, building tiny bug colonies.”
“Oh my god,” I giggled. “That would’ve been the most disgusting surprise ever.”
“I swear, Samira, I’m really sorry,” he said, calming down a bit. His tone turned softer. “I didn’t want to scare you. I just didn’t know what else to do. The gecko—his name’s Samson—he actually belongs to my little brother. He loves that lizard more than anything.”
“No judgment here,” I said. “I had a pet frog once. For two whole weeks. Until my mom walked into my room and screamed.”
That set us off again. We laughed until we had tears in our eyes.
Then, Ben said something unexpected.
“Let me make it up to you,” he said, almost shyly. “Can I take you out for coffee? As an apology for the… bug thing?”
I blinked, caught off guard.
This wasn’t part of the plan. This was supposed to be a quick handoff of creepy crawlies—not the beginning of a potential meet-cute.
Still… there was something about him. Something genuine.
“I… um…” I started, not sure what I was saying. “Sure. Why not?”
His face lit up like I’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket.
“Great! There’s a place not far from here. Want to go now?”
I laughed again. “How about we make a quick stop at a car wash first? You know, to wash off any leftover paranoia—and maybe some rogue bugs?”
“That’s the least I can do,” he said. “Come on.”
He carefully locked the box of insects in his truck. I tossed him my car keys.
He caught them with ease, and we headed off together.
On the way, Ben told me about his little brother.
“There’s a big age gap,” he said, eyes on the road. “But he’s staying with me right now. There’s a really great school nearby, and my parents thought it’d be best if he lived here for a while.”
“That’s really sweet,” I said. “You’re a good big brother.”
“I try,” he smiled. “He’s obsessed with reptiles. I, on the other hand, have nightmares about crickets chirping at 3 a.m.”
At the car wash, Ben insisted on the full cleaning package.
“Give her the deluxe treatment, guys,” he told the staff. “She’s survived a bug invasion.”
We sat at a small café nearby while the car was being cleaned, sipping our coffee and laughing like old friends.
I hadn’t planned on meeting anyone that day.
I hadn’t planned on a mystery call about live insects, or a spontaneous coffee date with a stranger.
But sometimes life doesn’t follow your plans—it writes its own story.
And I was curious to see what would happen in the next chapter.
