The Wallet
As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years. The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. (
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I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline -- 1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years earlier. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting, on powder-blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was (
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a "Dear John"letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed Hannah.
It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way, except for the name Michael, to identify the owner. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope. (
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The operator suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment, then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number. " She said as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and ask whoever answered if the person wanted her to connect me.
maple story mesos,I waited a few minutes and then the super-visor was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you. " I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped. " Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daught