Bright Opportunity

He had to admit, when he stumbled out of his apartment, into the street to find it laying there, looking so helpless, glowing in the gutter, the first thing that registered in his head was money.

Who wouldn't want to see this thing? He assumed it was from the stars. Who wouldn't pay for that? No way could it have been man made. It felt like nothing he had ever touch before, it made no noise, and it had no scent. He figured if it was powered by batteries or another form of electricity, it would become warm to the touch, but even that didn't happen. It always glowed.

Whatever he had literally stumbled upon, could easily be monetized.

But as time wore on and he tried to tell his friends about it, many of which would laugh off his pleas, he began growing tired of the thing.

Every night he tried to sleep with it, he couldn't. It was just too bright. He already tried putting it in another room, wrapping it in a blanket - anything, but it still shown through the cloth and under the door, illuminating the frame and the entire room. The strange thing about it too was the further he moved it form him at night, the brighter it seemed to get, so he was stuck here, now, with it next to him, the dimmest it could be.

Until he figured out what to do with it, he'd have to deal with the many sleepless nights, it laying next to him like a giant, cresent night light.

He wanted dearly to discard it, dump it behind his apartment in the trash, hope some other schmuck would pick it up - but the thought of money persuaded him to keep it.

Why'd it have to be so damn bright?

Stupid moon rock.