My worn out shoes hit the sidewalk. Another early morning walk to my low paying job. Same old path, past the same grimy alley shortcut. But that morning, something was different. Leaning against a stinking dumpster was a suitcase. It looked expensive hard, shiny plastic, nothing like my old duffel bag. Totally out of place.
No one was around. Just me and the suitcase. I gave it a little kick. Heavy. Really heavy. My heart started pounding. What was inside?
I snapped open the latches. My breath caught. Not clothes. Not books. Money. Lots of money. Neat stacks of $100 bills. Green bundles filling the whole case. I slammed it shut fast, looking around. Half a million dollars? Right there? My hands shook. This wasn't just cash. This was freedom. Pay off my debts? Help my family? Stop worrying about every single dollar? It felt unreal.
Walking to work felt strange. The suitcase suddenly felt huge, like everyone could see it. Did that person glance at me? Could I just... keep it? Finders keepers? Who leaves this much cash in an alley? Maybe it was dirty money. Maybe someone wanted it gone. My mind raced: quit my awful job, get a small place, finally breathe easy. It was a dizzying dream.
Then, on my break, the news flashed on the TV. A superb rich politician was panicking. He lost his suitcase. The description matched perfectly that special hard case. He said it had "$500,000 cash for a private project." My blood ran cold. That suitcase. His suitcase.
The dream turned sour fast. This wasn't lost cash. This belonged to a man with huge power, lots of connections, and people say he doesn't play nice. Keeping it wasn't just stealing; it felt like suicide. His people would look hard. Cameras? Witnesses? He could find me. He could ruin me.
But giving it back felt scary too. Walk up to his big security guards with half a million? Say, "Found it by the trash?" Would they believe me? Would they think I stole it? Or maybe make me disappear to keep things quiet? And his story "$500,000 cash for a project"? It sounded fishy. What real project needs a suitcase full of cash? Bribes? Something illegal? Touching that money now felt dangerous.
So, what do I do?
Keep it? Feels like stepping on cracking ice. One wrong move and I drown. Is it blood money? Will they track me?
Return it? Feels like walking into a trap. Will I get blamed? Or hurt?
Leave it? Just walk away? Pretend I never saw it? But could I live with that? Knowing it’s there?
Call the cops? Anonymously? But can I trust them? Are they on his payroll? Would I be safe?
The suitcase isn't a dream anymore. It's a heavy, scary problem. Half a million dollars. It could change my whole life. Or it could end it. Do I grab this crazy chance for freedom, knowing the huge risk? Or do I stay safe in my small, hard life, always wondering "what if?" but also knowing the dark truth? There's no easy answer. Only fear, and a choice that could cost me everything.
something you made a decision that makes you succeed for life and at times it's leads you into trouble but for me it's a God blessing and a sign of answered prayers.
