I found a credit card yesterday right on the ground outside Pathmark. As I entered the store examining it, deciding what to do, a young man rushed up to me, claiming it was his. I just handed it over on impulse without asking for ID. Could I have been more careful? But he seemed clean cut and anxious. Should I have expected a reward? Of course not. Well, maybe a small one.
I recall finding a $100 bill on the floor next to a bar at a club. What to do? I guess I was feeling benevolent. I left it on the counter for the bartender and walked away. That was years ago and I still feel stupid. But if I had handed the bill to him what would he have thought? If it were a woman, you know what would have entered her mind.
I walk with my head down almost always and have scooped up lots of change and occasional bills. $20 was the highest denomination. But there is something especially thrilling about spotting a shiny quarter no one else has seen, flashing over and swiping it up and sliding it into your pocket in one motion.
I've never found any jewelry. Sometimes people leave tote bags with free samples at festivals and I'll wait for them to return. If no one comes back, I'll sift through the contents, searching for something more valuable than tiny boxes of cereal. Usually there's a pen and notepad and windshield scraper.
I wish I could find a mysterious note leading to an adventure. Or come across a lost woman with no memory and someone chasing her. We'd hide in a laundromat and plan our escape. We'd use that credit card I found if I hadn't been so quick to surrender it.
Funny thing--it wasn't signed.
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