Lost Cash

Gerald walked to and from work everyday. He was very proud of this. In fact, he oftentimes clumsily worked it into conversations. But the health benefits outweighed the annoyance of coworkers, so it was a harmless pursuit.

On the third Tuesday of an uncharacteristically warm January, Gerald thought he might extend his walk a few blocks. Instead of turning on 34th street, Gerald kept walking with a bounce in his step. He inexplicably stopped at the alley between 37th and 38th. Between every street there was a narrow alley, called a “lane” by the locals. These lanes were lined with green trash cans and black recycle bins.

Gerald looked down the alley and felt compelled to walk through it. He casually strolled past a dozen trash cans before he noticed a raggedy man a the far end of the lane. Gerald thought the raggedy man was a panhandler playing his trade in the downtown area.

The raggedy man made eye contact with Gerald. He picked up his pace. Gerald began to shake his head and raise his hand before the raggedy man could say a word. That’s when Gerald noticed that the raggedy man was holding a small black thing in his hand. Gerald felt a pang of panic that the raggedy man had a gun.

“Take it!” The raggedy man shouted.

Gerald was confused. He now could see that it wan’t a gun.

“Take it! And do better than me!” The raggedy man shoved the object into Gerald’s hands.

Gerald looked down and saw it was a small, black leather bound book.

“Do better!” the raggedy man exclaimed as he ran off.

Gerald stood, dazed and confused. He looked down at the small book. hesitantly he cracked it open. The pages were filled with a long list of locations. Each location had a dollar amount. The first fifty pages or so had every location scratched out with a pen. When Gerald finally got to locations that weren’t scratched out, the first one read:

Alley between 37th and 38th. Inside the trash can marked 21. $327.

Gerald frowned at the book, as if frowning would make the book ore sensical. It did not. He looked up from the book and saw that he was standing opposite the trash can marked 21. He felt a sudden pang of nervousness. He looked all around suspecting he was on an elaborate prank show. He stiffened his back and walked as if being watched by millions of TV viewers. He approached the trash can with a flourish. He lifted the lid and peered inside.

There was only one trash bag in the can. He reached in and pulled the bag halfway out. He ripped the bag apart and let the contents fall back into the can. He could clearly see a bank envelop in the garbage. Picking up the envelop and opening it, Gerald counted out exactly three hundred twenty-seven dollars. He quickly looked at the book.

Remarkably, the location was no longer in the middle of the book but now it was the very first entry. And even more remarkable, it was scratched out with a pen.

Gerald walked around to the front of the house marked 21 on 37th street. He stood staring at the old victorian house. It had seen better days. The paint was peeling and the windows were warped. The house seemed to sag under the weight of decades and decades of neglect. Gerald looked at the envelope in his hand. Someone lost this money. Someone in this house. The right thing to do is return it. Surely that’s what this book wants. It wants you to return the money. No one should have to endure losing a large sum of money.

Gerald stood arguing to himself as Patricia Keating came out of her house. She had a frantic air about her. Her brown hair seemed barely managed by the casual brushing it received hours ago. She barely made it down three steps before rushing back to the door. But before she could reenter her house she found what she was looking for in her bag. She spun on the stoop to see Gerald watching her She managed a smile and waved.

Gerald looked at the envelope and back at Patricia. He realized she would never know what happened to this money. It was gone from her life and she couldn’t retrace her steps to find it. He stepped up to the stairs.

“Can I help you?” Patricia asked with an air of suspicion.

“I was takin a short cut home through the alley in your back yard.” Gerald stammered. “And at your trash been I noticed this on the ground.”

He held up the envelope. Patricia’s face dropped. She stared at the envelope. Her eyes widened. She began rifling through her purse. She would look at the envelope then into her purse and then back at the envelope.

“Oh my God!” Patricia exclaimed. “I would have been in so much trouble! That’s the rest of my rent!”

Gerald smiled as he handed it over. Patricia showered him with praise. Gerald felt like a hero. Patricia scurried off to whatever business she was up to and Gerald watched her disappear around the corner.

His smile was carved into his face like some deranged jack-o-lantern. He looked at the book. The location was gone. But the very next location was only a few blocks away. Gerald took a deep breath and congratulated himself on the reward of walking to and from work every day. With new vigor, Gerald walked toward the new location.

Under the blue sedan in front of 23 east 36th street. $3500.

“$3500?” Gerald mused aloud.

Before he knew it he was standing in front of 23 east 36th street. The blue sedan was parked right in front. Gerald tried to be non-assuming as he could be. He noticed a brown paper bag. He awkwardly crouched down and retrieved the bag. Looking into the bag he saw a thick stack of hundred dollar bills.

“You better give me my money!” Rang out from inside the house.

“I swear! It was right here!” Another voice pleaded.

“Yeah? It better be in my hand in Five!”

“I don’t know what happened…”

“Four.”

“Let me retrace my steps!”

“Three!”

“You know I’d never stiff you!”

“Two!”

“Please! god! Please!”

“One!”

Gerald barely heard the word “one” as the gunshot rang out. Nearly jumping out of his skin Gerald ran from the house. In his mind the gunman was right behind hi. He was afraid to look back. He ran and ran all the way home.

Once inside, behind locked doors, Gerald peeked inside the book. He saw that the $3000 was still there, only crossed out. He also noted that all the other locations had changed. They were location closer to where he was now. He spied out the window to make sure that there are no dangerous looking folding sulking around.

Over the course of the next few days, Gerald learned a great deal about the book. It seemed to only show locations within a 500 foot radius of him. It only seemed to show amounts over $50. He also learned that if he returns the money to the rightful owner, the entry in the book fades away. While instances where he does not return the money, either by choice or inability to find the rightful owner, the entry remains with a heavy black mark scratching it out.

Gerald took pride in the fact that more often than not, he returned the money. However, he did feel a certain satisfaction deep within him when he kept the money from those he deemed unworthy of it. He began to see himself as an expert in human behavior. He felt strongly that criminals did not deserve the money. He also felt that outwardly mean people did not deserve the money. Within a few months he had developed a lengthy list of reasons why people shouldn’t get the money. And the scratched out list of locations grew longer and longer.

As time wore on, Gerald became more and more obsessed with finding every lost cent. He had long quit his job and his bank account had grown to a level he could barely had dreamed of in his former life. Unfortunately, he never enjoyed his wealth Instead, he spent every waking moment locating money on parks, gutters, and most often the garbage. His friendships all dried up as he found non time for them.

One day, Gerald found himself wading through garbage in a dump. He was trying to get to an envelope with $130 in it. He was pushing aside a magazine when his eyes danced over the publication date. 30 years since he last thought of what day it was. 30 years digging through trash and retrieving lost cash. 30 years gone without any connections, hope, or love. Gerald sat in the garbage. He looked at his surroundings. And for the first time in ages, he rested.

He trudged home trying to conjure the names of people he loved. Family and friends he had lost contact with long ago. His pace picked up as he began to reconstruct a life he had abandoned all those years ago. He turned down an alley on his way to his home. There he encountered a young woman, Patricia. She was sneaking a cigarette by the trash cans behind her house. Gerald rushed up to her. Initially she held her hands up in a guarded fashion.

“Take this! Do better than I did... Do better!” Gerald thrust the book into her hands and ran off.

Patricia looked around confused and frightened. Then she looked at the small black notebook in her hands. She thumbed through the pagesGerald walked to and from work everyday. He was very proud of this. In fact, he oftentimes clumsily worked it into conversations. But the health benefits outweighed the annoyance of coworkers, so it was a harmless pursuit.

On the third Tuesday of an uncharacteristically warm January, Gerald thought he might extend his walk a few blocks. Instead of turning on 34th street, Gerald kept walking with a bounce in his step. He inexplicably stopped at the alley between 37th and 38th. Between every street there was a narrow alley, called a “lane” by the locals. These lanes were lined with green trash cans and black recycle bins.

Gerald looked down the alley and felt compelled to walk through it. He casually strolled past a dozen trash cans before he noticed a raggedy man a the far end of the lane. Gerald thought the raggedy man was a panhandler playing his trade in the downtown area.

The raggedy man made eye contact with Gerald. He picked up his pace. Gerald began to shake his head and raise his hand before the raggedy man could say a word. That’s when Gerald noticed that the raggedy man was holding a small black thing in his hand. Gerald felt a pang of panic that the raggedy man had a gun.

“Take it!” The raggedy man shouted.

Gerald was confused. He now could see that it wan’t a gun.

“Take it! And do better than me!” The raggedy man shoved the object into Gerald’s hands.

Gerald looked down and saw it was a small, black leather bound book.

“Do better!” the raggedy man exclaimed as he ran off.

Gerald stood, dazed and confused. He looked down at the small book. hesitantly he cracked it open. The pages were filled with a long list of locations. Each location had a dollar amount. The first fifty pages or so had every location scratched out with a pen. When Gerald finally got to locations that weren’t scratched out, the first one read:

Alley between 37th and 38th. Inside the trash can marked 21. $327.

Gerald frowned at the book, as if frowning would make the book ore sensical. It did not. He looked up from the book and saw that he was standing opposite the trash can marked 21. He felt a sudden pang of nervousness. He looked all around suspecting he was on an elaborate prank show. He stiffened his back and walked as if being watched by millions of TV viewers. He approached the trash can with a flourish. He lifted the lid and peered inside.

There was only one trash bag in the can. He reached in and pulled the bag halfway out. He ripped the bag apart and let the contents fall back into the can. He could clearly see a bank envelop in the garbage. Picking up the envelop and opening it, Gerald counted out exactly three hundred twenty-seven dollars. He quickly looked at the book.

Remarkably, the location was no longer in the middle of the book but now it was the very first entry. And even more remarkable, it was scratched out with a pen.

Gerald walked around to the front of the house marked 21 on 37th street. He stood staring at the old victorian house. It had seen better days. The paint was peeling and the windows were warped. The house seemed to sag under the weight of decades and decades of neglect. Gerald looked at the envelope in his hand. Someone lost this money. Someone in this house. The right thing to do is return it. Surely that’s what this book wants. It wants you to return the money. No one should have to endure losing a large sum of money.

Gerald stood arguing to himself as Patricia Keating came out of her house. She had a frantic air about her. Her brown hair seemed barely managed by the casual brushing it received hours ago. She barely made it down three steps before rushing back to the door. But before she could reenter her house she found what she was looking for in her bag. She spun on the stoop to see Gerald watching her She managed a smile and waved.

Gerald looked at the envelope and back at Patricia. He realized she would never know what happened to this money. It was gone from her life and she couldn’t retrace her steps to find it. He stepped up to the stairs.

“Can I help you?” Patricia asked with an air of suspicion.

“I was takin a short cut home through the alley in your back yard.” Gerald stammered. “And at your trash been I noticed this on the ground.”

He held up the envelope. Patricia’s face dropped. She stared at the envelope. Her eyes widened. She began rifling through her purse. She would look at the envelope then into her purse and then back at the envelope.

“Oh my God!” Patricia exclaimed. “I would have been in so much trouble! That’s the rest of my rent!”

Gerald smiled as he handed it over. Patricia showered him with praise. Gerald felt like a hero. Patricia scurried off to whatever business she was up to and Gerald watched her disappear around the corner.

His smile was carved into his face like some deranged jack-o-lantern. He looked at the book. The location was gone. But the very next location was only a few blocks away. Gerald took a deep breath and congratulated himself on the reward of walking to and from work every day. With new vigor, Gerald walked toward the new location.

Under the blue sedan in front of 23 east 36th street. $3500.

“$3500?” Gerald mused aloud.

Before he knew it he was standing in front of 23 east 36th street. The blue sedan was parked right in front. Gerald tried to be non-assuming as he could be. He noticed a brown paper bag. He awkwardly crouched down and retrieved the bag. Looking into the bag he saw a thick stack of hundred dollar bills.

“You better give me my money!” Rang out from inside the house.

“I swear! It was right here!” Another voice pleaded.

“Yeah? It better be in my hand in Five!”

“I don’t know what happened…”

“Four.”

“Let me retrace my steps!”

“Three!”

“You know I’d never stiff you!”

“Two!”

“Please! god! Please!”

“One!”

Gerald barely heard the word “one” as the gunshot rang out. Nearly jumping out of his skin Gerald ran from the house. In his mind the gunman was right behind hi. He was afraid to look back. He ran and ran all the way home.

Once inside, behind locked doors, Gerald peeked inside the book. He saw that the $3000 was still there, only crossed out. He also noted that all the other locations had changed. They were location closer to where he was now. He spied out the window to make sure that there are no dangerous looking folding sulking around.

Over the course of the next few days, Gerald learned a great deal about the book. It seemed to only show locations within a 500 foot radius of him. It only seemed to show amounts over $50. He also learned that if he returns the money to the rightful owner, the entry in the book fades away. While instances where he does not return the money, either by choice or inability to find the rightful owner, the entry remains with a heavy black mark scratching it out.

Gerald took pride in the fact that more often than not, he returned the money. However, he did feel a certain satisfaction deep within him when he kept the money from those he deemed unworthy of it. He began to see himself as an expert in human behavior. He felt strongly that criminals did not deserve the money. He also felt that outwardly mean people did not deserve the money. Within a few months he had developed a lengthy list of reasons why people shouldn’t get the money. And the scratched out list of locations grew longer and longer.

As time wore on, Gerald became more and more obsessed with finding every lost cent. He had long quit his job and his bank account had grown to a level he could barely had dreamed of in his former life. Unfortunately, he never enjoyed his wealth Instead, he spent every waking moment locating money on parks, gutters, and most often the garbage. His friendships all dried up as he found non time for them.

One day, Gerald found himself wading through garbage in a dump. He was trying to get to an envelope with $130 in it. He was pushing aside a magazine when his eyes danced over the publication date. 30 years since he last thought of what day it was. 30 years digging through trash and retrieving lost cash. 30 years gone without any connections, hope, or love. Gerald sat in the garbage. He looked at his surroundings. And for the first time in ages, he rested.

He trudged home trying to conjure the names of people he loved. Family and friends he had lost contact with long ago. His pace picked up as he began to reconstruct a life he had abandoned all those years ago. He turned down an alley on his way to his home. There he encountered a young woman, Patricia. She was sneaking a cigarette by the trash cans behind her house. Gerald rushed up to her. Initially she held her hands up in a guarded fashion.

“Take this! Do better than I did... Do better!” Gerald thrust the book into her hands and ran off.

Patricia looked around confused and frightened. Then she looked at the small black notebook in her hands. She thumbed through the pages