Ravi chooses to open the briefcase instead of walking away. The briefcase felt colder than the night air as Ravi’s fingers brushed against its handle. A shiver ran down his spine, not from the chill, but from the thought of touching something that wasn’t his.

For a moment, he considered leaving it there. But curiosity, that old whispering friend, nudged him forward. He knelt, set his office bag aside, and inspected the lock. To his surprise, the latch clicked open without resistance, as though the case had been waiting for him all along.

Inside lay neat stacks of cash, crisp, untouched, and impossibly tempting. Beneath them were papers and files, their corners worn, the ink on some pages. Numbers, diagrams, and signatures flashed before his eyes, but he couldn’t make sense of them.

As Ravi lifted the top layer, something impossible happened. Right there on the briefcase, a door handle materialized out of thin air. Its wooden frame glowed faintly blue, its handle gleaming like polished silver. He blinked. The briefcase was still open, the cash untouched, but the door stood firm, as real as the road beneath his feet.

Ravi’s heart thudded in his chest. A door knob inside a briefcase. It was an only question. There were no walls, no hinges, just a frame standing upright, leading… somewhere. His mind raced. What if it was dangerous? What if it was a chance to change everything, his life, his regrets, even the litter he had tossed without a thought? He felt the weight of his day, of all his days, pressing down on him.

What should Ravi do next?

Enter the door or Ignore the door and take the papers and files.

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What did Ravi Do?