The Wallet Left Behind

It was a rainy Tuesday evening when Emma stepped off the crowded city bus. Her hands were full—an umbrella, a coffee cup, and her phone buzzing with messages. She rushed across the wet street toward her apartment when she suddenly froze. Her heart skipped a beat.

Her wallet was gone.

Emma’s mind raced. It had her ID, credit cards, and even a photo of her late grandmother—the only copy she had. She turned back, rain soaking her hair, and sprinted toward the bus stop. The bus was already disappearing down the street.

Desperate, she ran after it, waving and shouting, “Stop! Please!” But no one heard her. She stood there, breathing hard, watching the red taillights fade into the night.

Defeated, she decided to check the lost-and-found office the next morning. But as she entered her apartment building, she noticed something strange—a small brown wallet lying on the lobby floor. Her wallet.

She picked it up slowly, confused. The leather was damp but everything inside was untouched. Then she saw a folded note tucked inside:

“You dropped this on the bus. I didn’t want you to lose something important. Maybe next time, look up from your phone. The world’s still full of people who care.”

Emma smiled, holding the note tightly. For the first time in a long while, she felt something warm spread through her chest—hope.

That night, she decided to look up more often.