The Purse


Stories I've Never Told...

When the busboy brought the dark brown leather Burberry purse to the front desk of the steakhouse, where I worked as a hostess, we scoffed. What kind of person forgets their purse at a restaurant, we wondered. An expensive purse, at that. We figured she must be some rich housewife, who doesn’t really care too much about her belongings. I didn’t care to reflect on the instances in which I left my purse on the bus, or in a lecture hall, or at home so many times. I’m certainly not rich.

When I went into work three days later and the Burberry purse was still in the front hall closet’s lost and found area, I frowned. How could this person not have returned looking for her purse? I looked inside for a wallet to contact the owner, but there was no driver’s license, no credit card, only an unnamed debit…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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