lump of leather

I stopped for gas when I realized my wallet wasn’t in my pocket. I did the frantic body search followed by crawling into my car to check under the seats. Nothing more than twenty-seven cents and an aged piece of wrapped hard candy turned up. I reviewed my life in reverse and decided that the obvious culprit was Jim’s car. I had taken my wallet out of my pocket to relieve the strain of sitting on the thick lump of leather and documents. It was, I suddenly felt sure, sitting on the seat. Unless it had fallen to the floor when Jim came to an abrupt stop. I

Lord Malinov, Journals of Lord Malinov

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet
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