Short story from the RI. This is not a time to panic. It's just a wallet. Whoever put it here was probably the one who tossed the mail into the rose bushes. But the question is, should I touch it, or just walk away and call the police? Do you get a fine if a police bomb squad is called out for nothing? I won't touch it. Why would someone send me a wallet filled with, no doubt, plastic explosives and BB's for extra damage? Is it my wallet? Have I lost a wallet? It's brown. I did loose a wallet once, the night I ran through the woods chased by men yelling. That was the worst camping trip ever. They must have found it and are hoping to kill me because they thought I saw whatever it was they were doing. I'm still holding the mail box door. Should I close it?
"Hey that's my oven!" A childs voice spoke behind me.
"Did you see who put this here?" I asked, pointing to the mailbox.
"That's my hamburger. It's done now do you want a bite? It's hot so don't touch it. I have pot holders!"
"Oh. Ok!" I smile at the kid. "You have a oven in front of your own house, do you have to use mine?"
"No, lettuce is in the fridge. It hasta stay cold."
The kid took the wallet back across the street with a flowery pot holder. I took my mail inside and decided to change the type of novel I usually read.