Avi Kaplan: A Collection of Short Stories

Lost and Found

You had a knack for finding lost things.

You had a box of found belongings tucked carefully away in the back of your closet. You can't quite pinpoint when the obsession started, but it grew in ferocity with each passing year.

An old rare coin, it's once clean copper hue now a slightly muted green and brown.

A well-loved book left on the bench near the bus stop. (It was in a completely different language—German, you thought—but that didn't stop you from lovingly flipping through its pages and attempting to read its story).

A silver charm from a charm bracelet—a small ballerina slipper.

An opal ring, the gem carefully twined in silver and reflecting in brilliant purples, greens and blues.

A part of you wondered if you purposely walked through the park on the off chance you'd find something lost. Sure, you enjoyed the budding spring flowers, the mild breeze and the crisp scent of fresh soil, too, but you'd found some of your best items in parks.

What you found next changed your life.

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The air was cool, yet refreshing, but regardless, you hugged your sweatshirt closer to your frame as you walked along the dirt path. It was the first pleasant day all spring, the sun shining brightly with only a few stray clouds hanging low in the mid-afternoon sky. Just ahead on the dirt path, you notice a shimmering dancing in your eye.

You look around, spotting only a few people milling around, none of which accompanied you on the path. Moving a little quicker, the small gravel crunching beneath your feet, you reach the shimmer, bending down to find a necklace half buried in the dirt.

The long silver chain still holds a faint trace of heat and you involuntarily shiver at the weight of it in your palm. At the end of the chain is a small circular pendant, a bass clef imprinted on its surface. The clasp is broken, which you're sure is how its owner ended up losing it. Hefting the slight weight of the chain in your hand, you carefully tuck the necklace in your pocket.

Once you arrive home, you dig in the back of your closet, pulling out the box of lost treasures. Pulling the necklace out from your pocket, you glance down between the box and necklace, the idea of placing the necklace there feeling...wrong.

You find a small pliers, and fixing the clasp, affix the necklace around your neck. The chain feels comfortable around your neck and you trail your fingers along the cool silver, thumbing the pendant at the end.

From that moment on, you never take it off.

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You worry the pendant between your fingers, the smooth coolness providing a lingering sense of calming comfort. It had been a few months since you found the necklace and in that time you hadn't found anything else.

Not even your lost set of keys.

You lean back on the bench, drawing your knees towards your chest and idly turn the pages of your book. A sudden breeze picks up, the warm scent of pine and a faint smokiness greet you and you shiver, your arms breaking out in goose bumps. A man sits down next to you, letting out an exasperated groan and cursing lowly under his breath at his phone.

You watch as he taps at the screen, scratching at the beard on his face in frustration. He raises his phone towards the sky and mutters, "shit" loud enough for you to hear before dropping the phone into his lap and hanging his head in defeat. Giving you a side glance, he notices you and sits up straighter, tugging at the hem of his shirt. "Sorry," he apologizes, "my phone is junk and I'm...lost."