A Writer's Tip:

The pandemic had affected so many lives around the world in more ways than most people could comprehend. With job losses, businesses shut down or temporarily impacted, schools closed and millions out of work, many Americans were struggling. Troy Williams was no exception. He had been out of work for almost a year because his waiter position had been cut when the local restaurant that had employed him closed down indefinitely due to COVID-19-restrictions. He was barely making ends meet when he was working 6 days a week and his unemployment benefits had run out. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. The world had gone mad and he had no control over what was happening to it or what had happened to him, but the one thing he had control over was the freedom he felt when he was on a run. He laced up his sneakers and headed out for the 10-mile trek in Rock Creek Park he began to maneuver shortly after the virus took hold of the world. The weather was brisk and cold for the last few weeks autumn had left in the Capitol City to enjoy. As Troy turned down the path headed toward Beach Drive, he saw a backpack that seemed to be out of place against the foliage of the park. Did someone drop it by mistake? He didn’t want to break his stride to look into it, but his curiosity got the better of him. Reluctantly he stopped and picked it up. It looked practically new. He walked over to the nearby bench to see if there was any identification inside. He unzipped it and inside were a bottle of water, hand sanitizer, an envelope, a face towel and a black notebook. He sat down on the bench and retrieved the notebook. “Moleskine?” Troy muttered under his breath. The same brand name that was on the backpack. He thumbed through it and saw that it was filled with journal entries, but nothing indicating the author’s identification. He opened the envelope, stunned by the amount of money inside it—all one-hundred-dollar bills. He looked around. Someone was obviously looking for the backpack and he had possession of it. This was a lot of money—money that he desperately needed. Money that would make a few of his problems go away at least for a little while. As much as he wanted to keep it, he knew it was important for him to find the person the backpack belonged to. He searched the backpack and there was a hidden side pocket that made the whole mystery clear. “In the event that this backpack is found, please call James Grant at 202-555-7777.” Troy reached inside his pocket to get his cell phone and began to dial the number on the ID badge. The phone rang once and a husky voice answered on the other end.

“Hello.” “Yes, I’m trying to reach James Grant.”

“This is James Grant. Who is this?”

“Troy. I was running in Rock Creek Park and found your backpack,” Troy replied. There was a slight pause.

“Was there an envelope in the backpack?” James asked calmly.

“Yes.”

“Is the money still there?”

“Yes.”

“Did you count it?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“20 Thousand Dollars.”

“I see. Where can we meet?”

“Anywhere. I just need to get back to where I parked my bike and we can meet.”

“Ok. I will text you at this number where to meet. Is an hour OK with you?” James asked.

“Yes, that’s fine.”

When Troy arrived, James was already there. The irony of meeting at one of the few restaurants that had outdoor seating was not lost on Troy. James waved him over. Troy was focused on the wait-staff and got teary-eyed of the work he had not done in almost a year. He nodded at James, passed him the backpack and sat down. James smiled behind his mask. “Thank you so much,” James said regarding Troy for a moment.

“You’re welcome. It’s no big deal.”

“But it is. How often does a person run across 20 thousand dollars and takes the time to locate the owner to return it?”

“I hope the percentage of people that would outweighs those who wouldn’t. I would like to believe that there are people who will do the right thing.”

“I’d like to believe that, too. I won’t keep you, but I noticed you took a moment to take in the atmosphere when you walked up. What was that about?”

“I used to be a waiter. The pandemic shut the restaurant down where I worked. I haven’t been able to work in almost a year.”

“Oh really? This has been a tough year for everyone in some form or the other; however, a good year for writers. I make a living writing. I was beside myself when I realized my backpack came off my bike when I was in the park earlier today. I looked everywhere for it. I was primarily concerned about my black notebook. I’d be lost without it.”

“But why have that kind of money in your backpack? Nice backpack by the way.”

“Well, I had just left the bank and was on my way to make a donation to one of my favorite charities, a food bank—one that now, more than ever is in need of help. I try to do something in paying it forward once a month. But somehow I feel that God orchestrated today’s encounter for me to be inspired by you.”

“How so?” Troy returned.

“By the kindness you displayed today.” He reached in the backpack. “This is for you,” James said as he handed the envelope of 200 one-hundred-dollar bills across the table to Troy.

“Wait, what? Ah, no, I can’t,” Troy stammered.

“Yes, you can and you must. Thank you. Pay it forward.”