The Night I Realized How Wrong First Impressions Can Be

In his palm lay my wallet.

My knees nearly gave way. Inside were my ID, credit cards, and a worn photograph of my late father – the one I always kept hidden behind the bills. I hadn’t even realized it was gone. He could have kept it, and I wouldn’t have known until morning.

He explained that he’d called after me, but I was already out of sight. Afraid someone else might find it, he’d parked the taxi and sprinted up the stairs to return it himself. His face was flushed from the effort, and I could barely manage to speak through shaky breaths. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered. “I thought you were…”

He smiled softly and finished for me, “Trouble?” We both let out nervous laughs, the fear dissolving into embarrassed relief. He wished me a good night before heading back down, leaving me standing there, clutching my wallet and trying to steady my heartbeat.