I Found a Lost Wallet at a Mechanic’s Shop and Returned It — the Next Day, a Sheriff Showed Up at My Door
***
I drove home in silence, thinking about the money the entire way.
When I got there, my mom was in the kitchen making spaghetti. The kids were doing homework at the table.
“Daddy!” my daughter yelled, running over to hug me.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I kissed the top of her head.
My heart pounded like I’d committed a crime.
My mom looked at me. “You okay? You look pale.”
“Yeah. Just a long day.”
After dinner, I read the kids a story and tucked them into bed. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that wallet.
About the cash. About the old man’s ID. About what the right thing to do was.
Finally, I made a decision.
I walked into the living room, where my mom was watching TV.
“I need to run an errand. Can you watch the kids?”
I couldn’t stop thinking about that wallet.
She looked up, surprised.
“This late?”
“Yeah. Something I need to take care of. I won’t be long.”
She studied my face for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay. Be careful.”
I grabbed the wallet from my toolbox in the garage and got back in my truck.
The address led me to a small house on the outskirts of town.
The porch light was on. I could see the flicker of a TV through the front window.
The address led me to a small house.
I sat in my truck for a minute, staring at the house.
What if he thought I stole it? What if he called the cops on me?
