Hours later, as I unpacked groceries in my kitchen, I pulled the receipt from the bag to toss it away. That’s when I noticed something scribbled across the back — quick, uneven handwriting that made me pause:
My heart skipped. For a moment, I just stared at it, confused. Check my back seat?
Was it a warning? A prank? The words sent a strange ripple of fear through me. I stood still, listening to the hum of the refrigerator and the quiet of the house. Then, curiosity — and a spark of unease — pushed me to the door.
The Discovery
There, wedged deep between the seat cushions, was my wallet.
My ID, credit cards, cash — everything I thought was safely in my bag. Relief came like a wave so strong I actually laughed out loud, shaking my head. Somehow, in my distracted rush, I’d dropped it without noticing.
Instead of chasing after me, instead of calling out across the store, she’d chosen a quieter way to help: a short note, written in haste, slipped onto the one thing she knew I’d eventually find.
