I returned a lost wallet full of cash at the auto shop where I worked—by the next day, a sheriff was standing at my door with a surprise I never expected.

between my fingers.

The quiet made every thought feel louder.

I could keep the money.

No cameras. No witnesses. Nobody had seen me find it. It could just… disappear.

Maybe the owner had no idea where he’d lost it.

Maybe he’d already written it off as gone.

I leaned back and rubbed my face.

“Yeah,” I muttered. “And what kind of person does that make you?”

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