A middle-aged man lived in a small town. He was single and had lived there all his life. Employment opportunities were limited, so he plucked chickens, a job he'd always hated. He secretly longed to be an artist, a painter. The man prayed something might change to allow his dream of freedom to become realized -- freedom from poverty and freedom to create. He felt as if invisible chains bound the true person he suspected was inside him. One day a lawyer called from a nearby city and said the man was to receive an inheritance from a distant relative who had died overseas. The lawyer said it wouldn't make the man instantly rich; he couldn't even disclose whether the inheritance was money, but it might be. According to the terms of the will, it could only be revealed when he signed the paper…