The good news is that I got home from work about 45 minutes ahead of schedule. I predicted a 5am arrival time but was fortunate enough to, on this night (early, early morning), be wrong with my guesstimate.
The bad news is that I have to be up in less than forty winks to go back to that place where I am currently annoyed. ( He meant to say employed). No harm, no foul. Besides, I wanted it this way. The lesser of two evils---no doubt.
The money. You sure would like to know about this "money" wouldn't you? Well if you were unawares, I currently reside in the lovely, colorful, loud, obscene, and sometimes way too loud area of New York commonly referred to as BED STUY!
...So I casually exit the train station. And don't even ask me how long I had to wait for that G-Train. (SPOILER: TOO DA** LONG!) So anyway, I crawl up the stairs and exit the subway to begin the short trek home. I always make it a habit to look down when I'm walking. (Because people are dumb. And dumb people like to drop things. Like money.) About two blocks into my trek, I stumble upon what I immediately recognize as tender. It was a small wad of bills, and I was staring directly into the face of a ten-spot. I wanted there to be 100s under that ten-spot but I don't know too many people (other than yours truly) that insist on putting their smallest bills on the outside of the stack. So keep dreaming. But that's just it. It was like a dream. (Actually, I still think I might be dreaming)
We've all had "the dream". You come across an a**load of cash or something just as valuable, to wake up to absolutely nothing. Demoralizing. Debilitating. And not a very pleasant way to start your day. Forgive the digression, but this was not a dream. I stayed the course and vowed not to count the possible "drug money gone missing" until I got home.
How much could be in this stack? I looked at it once more before I arrived home and quickly deduced that a) there were at least five bills in my possession and b) none of said bills looked to be the equivalent of the sum of four quarters. My pace increased. Not only because of the obvious but also because I felt strongly that whoever lost this cash was probably retracing their footsteps as I trekked.
As soon as I got home I counted. No time to even blink. 10, 20, 30 (if you could've seen my face at this moment, you would've tawt that I was a mere child being introduced to real money), 40, 50 (absolutely no way there's more than fif...), 60 Dollars!
Can you believe that? On a Saturday night (early, early, early, Sunday morning)? I can't believe it was there for me. Thanks to the dummy that lost his/her money. And to all the other dummies that failed to look down.
I'm expecting in the next few hours for my doorbell to ring. After spending a few seconds trying to figure out how they even got into my building, and then not answering the door, the money's true owner will then decide to stand outside the building, and just yell:
"Hey, you find some money on the ground not too long ago n*gga?"
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