Genie in a Shoebox.
Prologue.
The sharp sound of the machine's whistle ended the workday for Hoshigaki Kisame, the assembly-line came to a stop and countless workers left their positions and filed into the changing rooms. They were identical, same faded blue overalls, matted hair and wrinkled skin from the toxic factory fumes. Many of them were sporting a bad cough, and in order they undressed, showered quickly, and re-dressed in their own attire. Their tired eyes didn't even bother taking in how their own clothes were even shabbier than the uniforms, there was no room or energy for mindless conversations, so each kept their thoughts to themselves.
Kisame sighed as he took in his own appearance in one of the closed shop windows he walked past on his way home; his chocolate brown skin had an unhealthy grey gleam to it and his thick black locks were starting to thin. Not wanting to throw himself into another bout of depression he walked on towards his cheap and bare apartment. Working a 16-hour shift 7 days a week did that to a man, and even though he was only 35 years of age, he felt as worn and tired as an elderly. His job didn't pay worth the effort, and a great deal of what he did own went to his ex-wife for alimony.
He'd wanted to help raise the kid, but he had to work this job to sustain them, and in the end she left him for becoming too distant and occupied for her to bear. He wasn't occupied, he was drained of all strength and the smallest physical effort caused him pain but he wasn't occupied. He just didn't have enough power to fuel his mind long enough to get lost in any thought really. Why she needed alimony he didn't know, she got herself hooked on a businessman of sorts, but it left him with nothing.
He owned a filthy mattress, some sheets and a microwave. No shower, he had to wash himself in the sink, though that was unnecessary with the toxic-waste removal showers he took at work anyway. Kisame stumbled his way up the rusty metal stairs that lead to his front door and somehow found the strength to turn the key in the lock. He could practically hear his bones creaking with fatigue while he forced himself to eat some bread instead of falling into a dreamless sleep upon arrival. If he didn't eat now he wouldn't be able to get up in the morning at all.
This time, when he fell onto his bed, he did dream. Soft music filled the black abyss of his dream world, growing in volume until he hád to wake up. But the music was all too real, an eerie carnival tune sounded from right outside his door, a bit too slow to feel right, as if someone wasn't turning the wheel on a barrel organ fast enough. Bright light flooded through the keyhole and for a moment the music stopped.
Someone knocked on the door.
As If in a trance he slowly stood and walked towards the door. Slowly he opened it and was met by impenetrable darkness and silence. A hissing sound reached his ears and then a voice spoke, as if it was only in his head. "I have ssssssssomething for you sssssssssssweet child. Sssssssstep up and claim it." At these words two pale arms reached out towards him, holding in their hands a small box. Dumbfounded, Kisame took the box and made his way back inside. He closed the door, dropped the box where he stood and crawled back into bed.
It was only a dream after all.