Wallet- Part 1

It was sitting on a wall,half-open in the rain,brown leather, worn at the corners,nothing special, nothing strange. I walked another twenty yardsbefore conscience pulled me back.Somebody would be looking for it.Somebody would want it back. A few crumpled notes, some loose change in the seam, and a driving licence—there was the answer, it would seem. A photograph.A name.An address across the town. Easy. Do the decent thing.Drop it round. [