The following morning felt rejuvenating, and it seemed as if the world had simply forgotten or perhaps just did not have the time to care about what had happened the day before. Feeling refreshed, Jason began his day with his head held high and a rhythm to his steps. Although he had not forgotten his dialogue with his younger sister, he certainly did not want to muddy his good mood with thoughts of the past. And anyway, why should he bother with actions already done and through when he can choose to erase them from thought? Especially when it’s so simple to just let go and…
forget.

As Jason paced through a patch of dew-encrusted grass, he pondered the number of tasks ahead of him. As large as this number was, he knew, with a sense of despair, that it could not begin to compare to the number of tasks that he would NEVER be able to do. Tasks like buying Lizzy a decent present… Tasks like getting 3 hours of sleep a night…
Tasks like saving his Dad’s life.

The day passed as a blur; walking to school, attempting to stay awake in class… and failing, skipping lunch, working a part-time job as a waiter, taking the random available job, and then working night shift at McDonalds. All the while, Jason was painstakingly aware that the meager amount of money he collected would be just enough to provide for Lizzy and himself, let alone pay the medical bills for his father.

Driving home from McDonalds, Jason’s body ached, and his eyes began to lose focus. He definitely needed to get some sleep, but he knew he would only get a few hours in after finishing his homework. His sleep-deprived brain began to wonder about, and he found himself imagining huge bags of money, checks worth millions of dollars, treasure chests adorned with gold …and lost wallets left on park benches for the fortunate to stumble upon.

'Wait, hold up, lost wallet… on a park bench?'

Jason’s heart thumped, as he swerved his car to a stop. He peered out of his rusty windows to have a closer look, and to his disbelief, there laid the wallet upon a park bench, inconspicuous as a wallet laying upon a park bench can be.

'I told you so!' His brain seemed to say, a tad TOO smug. 'I told you there was a wallet, but you didn’t believe me!'

'Oh shush you!' Jason replied, then realizing that he was arguing with his own brain, chuckled and thought to himself, 'I REALLY need to get some sleep. Oh yes! The wallet!'
Jason flung open his car door, and jumped out. In his haste, he bumped his head against the top of his car, but he felt no pain. Sprinting over to the wallet, Jason’s mind began to think of all of the unreasonable things that the wallet may or may not contain.

'Perhaps it will not have any identification. Who could blame me for taking a wallet without any way of returning it to its owner?'

Jason opened the wallet with an eager frenzy, much like children unraveling Christmas gifts: Slow at first, and then gradually building up speed until living rooms were scattered with wrapping paper and screams of delight. Peering into the wallet, conflicting emotions took a hold of Jason. What he saw was a thick bundle of cash seemingly comprised of all one hundred dollar bills … and just beside it a series of identification cards detailing everything from the owner’s address to the owner’s pet dog’s favorite breakfast snack: “Multivitamin Canine Buffalo Bites.”

Unsure of his next action, Jason found himself at a standstill. Should he take the wallet and its contents, or should he return it? He surely needed it more than its owner, especially if the owner had enough money to buy a single meal for his dog probably worth more than all of what he ate in a day. But could Jason be able to live with himself and his guilty conscience if he were to just take it? Of course he could just take the money and pretend he never saw the identification cards, for whom would he not be able to fool with lose cash without ID? The answer was he himself. Even if he could get away with this money from all others, his own self would know of the shrewd theft he performed this day, and this memory would be engraved within his very soul. And so with that, Jason knew what he had to do. With a sigh, he thought:

'I guess I’ll have to go and return this wallet. The address is… Actually, scratch that… First thing in the morning, right after I get myself some sleep…'

Satisfied, Jason slumped back into his car, and began the solitary trek home.

“RRRRRIIIIINNNGGGGGGGGGGGGG!” The cacophonous bell rung within Jason’s ears, a symphony of utter distress conducted in a frantic allegro. Disappointment flooded Jason, quickly followed by an unpleasant taste of bile in the back of his throat.
Jason moaned and rolled over, desperately attempting to shut the musical pain out of his ears… and failed.

'I-it ca-n’t be mooorning alreaaaddduh-…' was Jason’s only feeble attempt to formulate a slightly comprehensible sentence. Head throbbing and muscles cramped, Jason limbered out of bed with sheer reluctance. Stumbling along, he began his day with neither thought nor emotion, relying on a mechanical slumber in which his body moved instinctively while his mind still lay in bed, enveloped in a warm blanket of dreams.

After proceeding in such a trance-like manner for half of the morning, Jason remembered the decision he made last night.

'The wallet!' He recalled. 'I must go and return it to the address specified on the ID card!'

And so, without a single hesitation, Jason flew down the steps of his shabby house. Scattered across the mordacious yard unkempt with weeds, Jason eyed the layers of rust building on his worn and beaten-down bike.

'It’ll have to do.' He thought, as he mounted the bike. With sturdy legs used to peddling dozens of miles from work to home, Jason began pumping his legs in a steady, familiar rhythm in the general vicinity of his destination.

One, two, one, two, one, two… and so once again, Jason sank back into his mechanical daze, lost in a labyrinth construed by the mind.

Finally, after what felt like forever to his body yet mere minutes to his brain, Jason spotted the house with the address specified on the ID card… and was stunned.

A house thrice the size of Jason’s, which isn't really saying much, was encircled by a fruitful garden and nestled between two, warm oak trees with trunks the size of minivans. And speaking of minivans, two were parked side by side on the spacious driveway. Although the house was neither rich nor gaudy, compared with what Jason was used to, the house could well have been a fully-packaged mansion with Lamborghinis, indoor swimming pools, and those thick, unnecessarily large black gates that seemingly surrounded all areas of importance.

Unmounting his bike, Jason approached the door of the modest home. As he walked between the wonderfully fragranced flower petals of the garden, he began feeling self-conscious of his own appearance, something he hadn't felt since the 8th grade dance. Just the thoughts of the dance brought shivers down Jason’s spine, doing nothing to boost his courage. Every step he took only heightened his growing feeling of discomfort, and the sharp contrast of himself and his surroundings gave him the feeling that he simply did not belong. It seemed as if the very flowers that had just moments ago seemed so lively and vivacious now turned their petals away in disgust, frowning on his mere existence. Seeking warmth, any warmth, Jason turned to the once comforting oak trees, but was met with hostile branches, waving at him to keep away.
Now knowing that no inanimate object would come to his aid, Jason slumped, trudging along with his head hung low as if convicted to the gallows. As he labored up the wooden steps to the door, the staircase groaned and whined; even it was displeased at Jason’s arrival. Finally reaching the door, Jason extended his arm to knock, but found that right before he struck the door, his arm froze. Although he had already made the decision to return the wallet, this was really the last time he could change his mind. Yet after thinking it over once more, he again came to the same conclusion that returning it would be for the best. Taking a deep breath, he looked around at his surroundings once more, except this time without a fear in the world. With newfound courage and an unwavering will, Jason squared his shoulders, raising his arm to the door for the very last time.
And knocked.

‘Oh, where is it! Where did I leave that blasted ol’ wallet!’

Donovan Mike, a 76 year old man, rifled through the three story home with surprising dexterity considering his age.

‘What do I do…? What SHOULD I do!?’

Donovan became increasingly desperate, searching in the most unreasonable areas of the house such as the refrigerator and the roof. Yet all of this searching was done with the slightest of noise, for Donovan did not want to wake his beloved wife, Sarah. Speaking of Sarah, today was Sarah and Donovan’s 49th anniversary, but the prospect of them reaching their 50th anniversary was…bleak. Due to an unknown cancer, Sarah had been bedridden for months, and all of the medical treatment she had been given proved useless.

“She lived a long and happy life, and you gave her more than most ever received, but now it’s time to let go.” is what all the medical specialists said.

‘Well ya’ll can burn in hell.’ Donovan would reply, but only within the guarded depths of his mind.

Even so, he knew he was fighting a race against time, one that he could not possibly win. His only resonant hope was to buy Sarah this gorgeous ring worth more than most cars that she had wanted ever since they had been first married. Never being able to afford such a luxury, Donovan had saved up spare change for the last 49 years, and just a month ago he had finally earned enough money!
That is… until he lost it.

Now, struck with grief and anger, he cursed the gods with creatively foul profanity, only to be interrupted by two knocks, strong and decisive. Clearing the emotion from his face, he opened the door, expecting to have to “politely decline” some girl scouts or advertisement groups. Instead, he was met by neither a man nor a boy, but something in-between. Perhaps a boy laden with responsibilities of a man, and therefore forged, like tempered steel, into the visage of a man. Yet a visage is nothing more than an apparition; an image that conceals the truth, hiding the core of a child.
‘And what a dirty child he was!’ Donovan could smell the mud caked on Jason’s worn shoes, hear Jason’s thumping heart, and almost taste the salty sweat soaked into Jason’s shirt. Yet what Donovan felt surprised him. He felt a sense of purpose; a resolute determination, and it was radiating from the filthy child.
”I believe this is yours?” Jason began, holding up the lost wallet.
Donovan’s face opened wide in astonishment. He nearly fell back in shock.
‘There it is! He found it! How? Where? But… is it mine?’
Composing himself, Donovan inquired, “W-where’d you find this?”
Pausing to recall, Jason replied, “On a park bench, somewhere back from work.”
Donovan’s heart raced, as he realized that he had sat on a park bench just yesterday after a long walk around the neighborhood.
‘It is definitely mine! Now I can finally get Sarah the ring!’

Just as he was about to reach for the wallet and say his thanks, Donovan froze. Taking in the boy’s filthy, ripped clothes, his tangled and sweaty hair, and the poor excuse for a bike laying in the yard, Donovan made a painful resolution. Before he knew it, flurries of words flew from his mouth.
“Well, I most definitely did not go to the park recently, and I’ve never seen that wallet in my life! Why don’t you just keep it, since the owner probably doesn’t need it anyway?”

“B-but the address sai-“

“But the address said nothing!” Donovan interjected. “It must have been wrong! Now why don’t you go on home and use that money for some productive? I’m sure that you need that ol’ thing more than the owner does anyway.”

The boy stood there, gaping, unsure of what had just transpired. And as disbelief turned into wonder which then turned into delight, Donovan closed the door, unable to help himself from grinning.

Just then, Donovan’s grin was wiped off his face, and he felt a hollow gap formulate within his very soul. It seemed as if the world had been plunged into complete darkness, leaving Donovan curled up into a ball, clutching his heart.

‘Is that you, dear almighty Lord? Is it already my time to say my goodbye? Or can it be… No… NO! Sarah!?… She can’t be…’
Abruptly awakening from his comatose state, Donovan raced up the stairs three at a time, flinging open the doors to Sarah’s room… and found her sleeping.
Sighing, Donovan chuckled at his own foolhardiness. How could he have believed that Sarah might have di-… no it is better not to think of such blasphemy. After another glance at his beloved wife, he could see the slightest trace of a smile upon her lips; surely she was enjoying some pleasant dream? Suddenly getting the strangest urge to hear his wife’s voice, Donovan decided to boast to Sarah about the incident that had transpired downstairs, and also decided it was the time to apologize for not being able to buy her the ring she so wanted. Heart still racing, Donovan gently shook Sarah awake.
“I’m sorry for not buying you that ring. Yes, I know it was pretty... but hey! Instead I did something that I’m sure would make you even happier! Care to listen?”
Sarah continued to smile, encouraging Donovan to continue.
“I used the money I had saved up for the ring to help out this real’ filthy boy. I bet the money I gave him will be able to change his life! Well, aren’t you proud of me? Seems this ol’ sack of bones still has some love left in em, won’t you say?” Donovan grinned toothily.
Sarah still only smiled content to let Donovan speak. The grin slowly fading from his features, Donovan again had that urge to hear Sarah’s mellow voice, as if this would be his final chance to do so.

“W-well reply, won’t you?

Yet Sarah still did not reply.

She never did.