So, 1645 W Jackson. Yeah, I remember that place. Had to go there once, wasn’t exactly a trip I was looking forward to.
It was after that whole mess with the old workshop downtown. Things went south, you know how it is. Shut down pretty quick. Left a bunch of my tools there, personal stuff too. Thought it was all gone.
Getting the Call
Months later, out of the blue, got this weird call. Guy said some stuff was moved to a storage unit, mentioned that Jackson address. Said I had like, a week to get it or it was gone for good. Sounded kinda fishy, honestly.
Didn’t have much choice, though. Some of those tools were expensive, inherited a few bits from my dad. So, figured I had to check it out.
The Trip There
Took the bus, then walked a bit. Not the nicest area back then, or maybe I was just in a bad mood. Took me ages to even find the right building. Numbers were faded, place looked kinda run down.
- Checked the address again on a crumpled piece of paper.
- Walked up and down the block twice.
- Finally saw a small sign, almost missed it.
Felt like I was walking into some kind of trap. Heart pounding a bit, you know?
Inside the Place
Found the unit number the guy gave me. Door was unlocked, just like he said. Weird. Peaked inside. Place was dusty, crammed full of junk. But in the corner, yeah, saw my old toolbox. And a couple of boxes next to it.
Grabbed my stuff fast. Didn’t stick around. Just wanted out. Carried that heavy toolbox and the boxes back to the bus stop. Felt like I’d pulled off a heist or something, even though it was my own damn stuff.
Never figured out who the guy was or why they even bothered moving it. Just glad I got my tools back. That address, 1645 W Jackson, just reminds me of that whole stressful time. Place probably looks different now. Haven’t been back. Don’t plan to.
