I Returned a Lost Wallet from a Mechanic’s ShopThe Next Morning, a Sheriff Was Standing at My Door

I sat in the truck for a minute looking at the house.

What if he assumed I had taken something from it? What if he called the police before I could explain? What if, somehow, this went wrong?

I recognized these thoughts for what they were, the particular anxiety of a person who has spent enough time being looked at wrong that he has started to anticipate continue reading …