Mr. Summers in "The Lottery"
The black box was silently sitting on the post office shelf, patiently waiting for its time to shine. It didn't move, it didn't change, it didn't do anything. And yet, it took Mr. Summers a long time to muster up the courage to reach towards it, and take it off the shelf. Carefully removing it, he shifted it to one side, so he could open the door, and make his way to the town square. The small pieces of paper shook around, making a soft shuffling sound. The lottery gave him shivers every year, even though he'd done it for the longest time. People had already begun to set up in the town square, and, taking a deep breath, Mr. Summers walked through them, and into the front of the crowd. "Little late today, folks." he said, carefully setting the box down on the stool that Mr. Graves had set for him. He tried to hide the sweat on his face, and turned away to wipe his brow. Not so much out of being tired, but more so because of the idea behind the box. Not want