At 7:57 am today, my phone rang. It was the (wo)man who had found my wallet. He said he tried and tried yesterday to get a hold of me, but couldn't. It got to the point, he said, where he was more worried about my wallet than his own wallet. He told me to meet him out front of The Charles at 8:30, then asked if there would be a reward involved.
My cynical side went "a-ha" at the question of a reward, but my optimistic side looked at the good things he said.
I showed up at the ascribed time and place. A small, gaunt, dark-skinned man in his fifties, with a voice like Whoopi Goldberg, came out of the theater's front door with a smile on his face and my wallet in his hand. I gave him $50 - maybe a bit steep, but I had my social security card in there even, imagine the problems that would have resulted - and he exlaimed joyfully that I made his holiday season for him. I thanked him, got back in my car, and kicked myself for believing the worst.
A few questions still are stuck: Does The Charles have a lost-and-found? Why didn't he just turn it in? Why didn't he say in his messages that he worked there? Does he actually work there? But I don't care that much. I got my wallet back, untouched, and , as far as I'm concerned, a nice guy did something nice for me.
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