A small, brown leather portfolio of credit cards and light cash. Photo ID and a supermarket club card, found on the street, wrapped in rubber bands. I have found it and am searching through it. The air is cold on my hands, as I stand in the park. Snow crunches on the pavement and grass. There are many people out and I look up and search for anyone just realizing what they’ve lost. But heads are cast down looking at feet or phones, and I dumbstruck in front of the frozen fountain. Taking my numb fingers, I pad through still, looking for a driver’s license. I find it in the changepurse – It has been cut into four square pieces. I sit down on a bench and connect the cuts. I see a name, a face! An address! But why has this been cut? It is not yet the expiration date – An why the whole wallet? Would someone just throw this away? The fact that there are a few dollars left is appalling still. I look around once more in vain, and seeing no one looking to claim it, I put it into the deep pocket of my warm winter coat and begin to trudge home, watching my step in the icy snow as it starts to freeze my foot from the outside in.

My apartment has low lights and is surprisingly cozy. For a building that sometimes knows no happy medium, this is cozy. I bring Darjeeling tea to my lips and smack at the strong taste of this black tea. The hot water revitalizes my frigid body and soul. I am thawing out. My coat has been hung and I now stand, glancing at the wallet now on my desk wondering what to do with it. Wondering what the story is. Feeling like this individual going off the grid, is probably the most likely explanation. I will keep the money. That much is sure. Standing at a distance, I decide to full extract all the wallet’s contents. I put the mug of steaming tea down and get to work. In one pile, cards. The other, cash. Another receipts. But there is something else in this wallet. It still bears some weight, even though I have emptied it. All zippers and flaps have been opened. What could it be? I start to feel through the leather, which has now also warmed in my apartment. There is something metallic and flat, sewn within the wallet – I can feel it.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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