I did it. I’m out, walking in the sunshine, like a normal person. I’m on the seafront strand, Runners are going by, surfers are out there in the water, there are even a few foolhardy picnickers with their colorful blankets spread out on the sand. I walked all the way from my apartment, and I didn’t have to come very close to anybody. Whenever I met somebody, I just crossed over to the other side of the street.

As soon as I woke up this morning, for some reason, I felt more confident. I said to myself, “Self, today is the day you should go out. You’ve been saying that one of these days you’re actually going to go right out that door and go for a walk, so why not get up, get dressed, and do it today? After all, you’ve been looking out that damn window day after day for a whole year, and you’ve seen other people are out there walking, so, if they’re brave enough to be out there, why shouldn’t you go out too? After all, you’ve got a perfectly good N95 mask, so why not put it on, and go out for a walk.”

Now that I’m on the strand, I haven’t met very many other walkers. I guess because it's the middle of the morning, and it’s a weekday. The few I have met had their masks on, and they maintained a proper social distance. All is good.

A youngish woman is coming down the strand toward me. She’s a rather tall blonde, and she's dressed in stiff-looking jeans and a tan sweatshirt. When she gets closer, I smile. But then, I realize she couldn’t see my smile behind my mask. I nod to at least show her I’m friendly.

She slows, and just in case she’s somebody I should know—maybe somebody from the restaurant I worked at before it closed down because of the pandemic—I hesitate.

She stops, so I do too. But she’s standing a bit too close to me, so I take a few steps back. I hope she understands that I’m only maintaining the recommended social distance.

She stares at me for a long uncomfortable moment, then says, “So, what is this? Some kind of scam?”

Of course, I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I say, “I’m sorry, ma’am, did I miss something?”

Again, she just stares at me for that long moment before finally pointing behind me. “You dropped your wallet. Am I supposed to pick it up?”

I turn to look where she’s pointing. Sure enough, there is a wallet lying on the pavement. I turn back to her. “I didn’t drop it, ma’am. It’s not my wallet.”

She lets out a sound from behind her mask that I think is a scoff. “Drop the act, buster. It won’t work on me. I know all about the old pigeon drop scam.”

Confused, all I can do is mumble that I have no knowledge of pigeons or scams.

She shakes her head and says, “Okay, okay, I get it. I’m supposed to go pick it up. Fine, if that’s the way you wanna play it.”

She goes to get the wallet, brushing past too close me, not even trying to maintain the proper social distance. If this woman is going to act so weird, I think I should just keep going and not get involved in whatever it is. With the danger of the pandemic always lurking, getting involved in any human-to-human contact might be downright dangerous.

But I don’t walk away like I should. I’m too curious. I watch her pick up the wallet and look inside it.

She comes back and gives me a glimpse at what’s inside the wallet. It seems to be stuffed full of money. I’m sure I saw a bunch of hundreds in it, and some other bills besides. Why would someone drop such a cheap-looking wallet with so much money in it?

She’s gone back to staring at me. Finally, she says, “Well, aren’t you going to tell me we should spilt the money?” “

"No,” I say. “I don’t want the money. Isn’t there any ID in it?”

She looks through the wallet and pulls out a business card. “Well, look here. This card says the guy is a stockbroker. Figures. Who else would be carrying around so much money? But then, you already knew that, didn’t you? Pretty smart of you. Making up a business card of a supposed stock broker, so I’d go for the idea that a person like that would accidentally drop a wallet with a lot of money in it.”

I decide this has gone far enough. “Listen, lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And besides, you’re standing way too close to me. I’m going to continue my walk. You do whatever you want with that wallet.”

I walk away quickly, hoping she won’t follow me and try to tempt me any more with that lost money that I could really use right now.

But she won’t leave me alone. She catches up to me, and again stands just a little bit too close. She says, "Okay, let’s say I believe you, and you don’t know anything about this wallet. What would you do with it if you’d been the one who’d found it?”

I shrug. “I guess I’d try to return it to the owner.”

“So, you figure you’d get a reward for returning it. But what if you didn’t? What if there is no reward?”

“I wouldn’t be returning it for the reward. I’d return it because it’s not my wallet and not my money.”

She does her scoff sound again and says, “So, you’re tryin’ to let on you’re one of the good guys? Okay, let’s play this out. There’s no home address on this card, only a business office downtown. You seem to be all paranoid about standing too close to people, but you’re gonna go downtown to this office building to try to find this guy?”

She’s got a point. That could be a risky adventure. But she’s wrong if she thinks I would have kept the money. I say, “Maybe not. I guess I’d . . . well, maybe I’d turn it in to the police. Let them find the owner.”

She holds the wallet out to me. “Okay, you do that. I gotta get going. My husband is waiting for me, probably wonderin’ where I am.”

I back away from her and hold up both of my hands. “I don’t want to have anything to do with that wallet. Who knows where it’s been. You found it. You take it to the police.”

“Oh, right, take it to the police you say. And just where is the nearest police station? Do you know? I don’t know. I’m from out of town. And how about this? If you do find the police station, and they make you fill out a bunch of paperwork, are you sure they’d be as careful about masks and such as you are. You ready to take that kind of chance?”

Damn. She’s got an answer for everything. How did I get mixed up in this anyhow?

She again holds out the wallet toward me. “I say we split up the money and go our separate ways. Whatta ya say?”

I again hold up both of my hands, and again I back away.

She says, “No? Fine, then I get to keep it. I think there’s over a thousand bucks in it.” She turns and walks away.

I’m left standing there thinking it’s not fair that she should get to keep all the money. She probably has plenty of money, at least compared with me. I’m the one who’s barely surviving on unemployment insurance.

I call after her, “Listen, I think the money should go back to it’s rightful owner. How about if I find a policeman and give it to him?”

She comes back and says, “That’s a better idea.” She holds out the wallet, and I reach for it, but she pulls it back.

She says, “Wait a minute. I think you’ve decided to keep all the money for yourself. Am I right or am I right?”

“No, you’re not right. I’m going to find a policeman and give the wallet to him.”

She again does that sound from behind her mask that sounds like a scoff. “You’ll just happen to find a cop. Oh sure. And even if you did, what if the cops don’t bother to look for the owner of the wallet?”

“It seems like someone who lost that much money would go to the police to report it.”

"And you figure no one will claim it, right? Then, after one hundred and twenty days, you’ll get the money back.

“No that’s not what I was thinking. I hadn’t even thought about that. And how do you know it’s one hundred and twenty days?”

“That’s the law, which I’m sure you already knew. No deal, buster. I’m not gonna let you walk away with all this money. Either I keep it, or you make it worth my while to hand it over to you.”

“Make it worth your while? What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. You pay me something. That way I can gas up our camper van and get back on the road to Utah. I’ve left this state, and you get to keep all the money.”

“Sorry, lady, but I don’t have hardly any money.” I empty my pockets to show her all I’ve got is a ten and a five and few crumpled up one-dollar bills.

“That’s it? What, you out of work or something?”

“I’m afraid I am. I’m getting by on unemployment.”

“Well, Christ, then I guess it’s only fair that you get to keep the money. You need it more than I do. Just give me what you’ve got for gas money, so me and my hubby can make it back to Utah.”

I hesitate, but she takes my money out of my hand, gives me the wallet, and walks away.

I think about chasing after her and demanding she give me back my money, but then I decide it’s not worth risking getting into some kind of altercation with her. As it is, just from touching this wallet, I’m going to have to go right home and carefully wash my hands with soap and water.

I turn back toward my apartment. If I meet a policeman on the way, I’ll give him the wallet and be done with it. All I want to do now is get home where I’m safe.

No sooner do I have that thought when I see a policeman coming down the strand toward me. Good. I’ll give him the wallet.

As I approach him, I hold out the wallet, but as he gets closer, I have a confusing moment. He is dressed as a policeman, but it’s not the uniform of the local police. Maybe he’s from somewhere else, just here on vacation. Maybe I’d better just hold onto the wallet for a bit longer.

I start to put the wallet in my pocket, but what if it’s contaminated? I quickly put it behind my back and go on past the policeman.

But I’m only a few feet past him, when I hear, “Hold on there, buster. What’s that wallet you’re holding behind your back?”

I turn to face him, and he comes closer. Too close. He is wearing a mask, but you’d think a policeman would know to keep a proper social distance between us.

He says, “I see you’re holding a wallet. Did you find it? We got the word that a man lost a wallet near here with a lot of money in it. Did you find that wallet?”

“Uh, yes, sir. I—”

“So you found it and decided to keep it for yourself.”

“No, not at all, sir. I was on my way to the police station to turn it in.”

His eyes behind his mask tell me he doesn’t believe me. He holds out his hand and says,” Hand it over, buster.”

I give him the wallet. He stuffs it in his own pocket and walks away.

I call after him, “Don’t you want my name?”

He doesn’t stop. He waves one hand and says, “It’ll be at the local station. You can go there and give 'em your name.”