Late evening at the city supermarket. Emily was at the checkout, quietly shedding tears from exhaustion, frustration, and loneliness. It had been a sleepless night. Her neighbor Greg, a well-known drunkard, had been causing a racket through the wall with his drinking buddies. Even the local police officer couldn’t manage to reason with him.
Emily glanced around the store and wiped her eyes. Approaching her was a pleasant-looking young man in a trendy coat. For the past month, this tall brunette always came to her counter, buying pizza and juice. “Probably single,” she thought. “Lucky the person who ends up with such a handsome guy.”
The customer approached with his pizza, flashed a charming smile, and handed over a twenty-pound note, but then reconsidered:
“I’ll find exact change so you don’t have to worry.”
He paid and left.
There was an hour left before the supermarket closed. The few remaining customers lazily piled groceries into their carts. As she yawned uncontrollably, Emily muttered some choice words about Greg. And here he was, speak of the devil, unkempt and bruised. The booze lover dashed into the store and soon stood at her register with two bottles of expensive vodka. Smirking, he handed over a new twenty-pound note. “The party next door will go on till morning,” Emily fumed.
“Greg, did you rob someone?!”
His shifty eyes darted around.
“Why would you think that?”
Emily checked the note against the light, ran her fingers over it and then suddenly…
“Hold on, Greg, something’s off… It needs checking.”
She slipped the money into the counterfeit detector and whispered:
“Where did you get this?! It’s fake!”
Greg froze, clutching the bottles tighter to his chest, as if bidding farewell to all his past hopes, desperately trying to remember a forgotten prayer. Suddenly, he slammed the alcohol onto the counter.
“Check these too,” he offered hopefully, presenting two more twenties.
“These are fakes, too. I have to inform the police!”
“Emily, I swear, I found it near the store, I would swear on it. Dropped the wallet, took the cash. Please don’t turn me in…” the drunk man begged.
The cashier reveled in his fear and was about to confess she was joking and that the notes were real when Greg snatched up the sixty pounds and quickly headed for the trash bin to dispose of the evidence. Greg tore the money into tiny pieces and darted outside.
Emily was stunned by his quickness. What had she done?! But he was the one at fault, pushing her to this point!
“Excuse me,” said her familiar customer, approaching. “I recently bought pizza from you…”
“I remember,” Emily replied, on alert. “Exact change.”
“Oh, it’s not that… I got to my car and realized my wallet was gone. I’m such a scatterbrain.”
“Were there a lot of notes in it?” Emily inquired, thinking of Greg.
“It’s not the cash, to be honest. There was a very important phone number I hastily jotted down on one of the notes. Please, if someone returns it, let them keep the money but record the number for me. Here’s my card.”
“Alright,” Emily nodded.
She was in a lousy mood. Until her shift ended, she pondered how to help the pizza lover. Finally, she grabbed a bag and, rushing to the bin, dumped out its contents. Back home, donning gloves, she searched through the shredded pieces, scolding herself for the foolish prank.
“He’s quite a scattered one… It’s probably a woman’s number,” she envied, feeling the telltale sting in her eyes. She found the number on two pieces.
“How to pass it on now? I can’t use my phone; he might call back. What would I say then? About the fake notes?”
She took out the card – Alexander Oliver Markham, with business and personal numbers. She needed to contact him, but from someone else’s phone, or just send an anonymous text. Maybe ask the elderly neighbor for her phone? But what if Alexander calls back, and she remembers Emily visiting? What would he think? That I’m that cashier who found the money and claimed it but sent the number on?
Then it hit her, she could ask the janitor for his phone; he likely wouldn’t be able to describe her later. But if he could… Best to make sure he couldn’t. Emily hurried to the wardrobe…
Soon, a bulky figure emerged from the building: fur coat over a jacket, two scarves… a woolly hat and, atop it all, a baseball cap. Let someone try to create a photo-fit of this ridiculous character. The round figure rolled away from home, trying to cover her tracks, listening for any sounds… scritch-scratch… There it was – a witness of Asian descent – just perfect.
Approaching the janitor, Emily said in a muffled voice:
“Mate, can I borrow your phone, please?”
The janitor froze, eyeing the bundle of clothes. She had to clarify:
“My battery’s dead. I need to make a call.”
And she showed him a crisp fifty-pound note. He silently handed over the phone. Emily quickly sent Alexander the unknown lady’s number, relieved to have it off her chest.
“Thank you,” she gestured and hurried home.
*
Alexander was restless. Not about the money, but recalling the encounter earlier that day when, on his way to a café, he suddenly heard:
“Alex!”
In the open door of a crowded bus, he saw the face of his friend Victor. They hadn’t seen each other in five years.
“I’m heading to the train station. Call me!” his friend called out the numbers.
Misplacing his phone, left at the office, Alexander had scribbled the number on a banknote, hoping to call Victor from his bachelor’s apartment later. But it hadn’t worked out.
To distract himself, he turned to a pleasant topic. Cashier Emily, who had been on his mind for a solid month. He recalled her wavy hair, eyes the color of clear skies, her friendly smile… It was time to get to know her better. Loneliness was growing tiresome.
Unexpectedly, he heard the message alert. Only a number appeared on the screen. Whose?.. Then he realized – Victor’s. He’d call in the morning. Finding the number meant finding the money, too. Now he needed to thank the sender right away.
“Hello. Thank you so much. Keep the money, consider it a gift.”
A male voice with an accent answered,
“GAIFT?.. I no understand. I’m janitor. Thank you.”
And hung up.
However, it didn’t matter who sent it. Tomorrow he’d share the news with Emily. She had been so upset yesterday, showing empathy. With the thought that he now had a reason to talk to her, Alexander fell asleep with a smile.
Meanwhile, Emily cried half the night, wallowing in self-pity, regretting her unsettled life, feeling sorry for hapless Greg and the now out-of-reach scatterbrain Alexander.
*
The following evening, a cheerful Alexander approached the checkout.
“Emily, everything’s fine. I got the lost number sent to me, I called my friend…” he began, and then suddenly stopped mid-sentence. “Wait…how did they know my phone number? I only gave the card to you.”
Emily remained silent, unable to speak.
“So, it was you who found the money and… sent the number?”
Without waiting for an answer, Alexander quickly headed to the exit.
“That’s it! He thinks I’m a thief. It’s over!” Emily panicked, grabbing her bag and chasing after him in tears.
“Alexander, wait!!!
Customers watched as she caught up with him and began speaking rapidly, then opened her bag and held out her hand. Alexander looked at the two pieces of a red note with Victor’s number written on them…
Moments later, laughter erupted from their direction.
*
Soon after, the Markhams celebrated their wedding, where Emily once again both cried and laughed, but this time out of sheer happiness. Greg also benefited…
