One of my worst fears all of a sudden came true! My purse is gone — stolen.
Now what? I think I left it here… no maybe there. I’m not sure, but I had it and it’s gone.
I’m franticly retracing my path looking for the last place I hung it up. There’s several potential places. I’m not sure. Now what?
I’m in a thrift shop across town. It’s a beautiful day. I was feeling good and now this — a sense of disbelief and then pent-up panic!
Why was I so stupid to hang it there? Why didn’t I remember to grab it before going on? What was I thinking? Did I expect any different?
I scan the room to see if I spot anyone familiar, because I vaguely remember a woman behind me earlier. She was my first suspect — she looked like she could be the type. I leave at that.
Maybe she didn’t like the idea/look of a feminized guy in a long skirt and a T top.
What I do know is that it was likely at this point, where my little black purse is hanging basically on display, that I last remember leaving it. I’ve been distracted looking through the shoes a couple of aisles over. So, it’s been awhile. Shit!
No car keys. Can’t call my son, because I don’t know his number — it’s programmed into my favourites on the phone that’s gone.
