I read on their exceptionally fake ID, a discolored, semi hazy picture to the left. Their overexposed features blended under that strange black and white filter against the light blue of the card. They were undistinguished, almost invisible. 

***

The dirty, off-white, overflowing wallet piqued my interest as I made my way home on foot. Today’s my lucky day!! I thought as I lifted the wallet to my temple and prayed to a false god for even a floppy fifty. I held the hefty two-fold case and closed my eyes for five seconds as a long breath spread across my chest, pleading. Opening the wallet I nearly dropped it, ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS! Plucking it from its place I felt an odd texture

“MONEY WILL NOT SAVE YOU FROM YOUR SINS, REPENT! GIVE YOUR LIFE TO GOD, YOUR TRUE DEBT LIES IN CHRIST!”

was encrusted in the ugliest orange on the fake tract bill. Annoyed and, frankly, disappointed, I rummaged through receipts, grocery lists, business cards littered with Dum Dum, cough drop and Starburst wrappers. Did they keep these on purpose? Or were they simply messy? Another receipt, Romantix Adult Store, candy lube and panties mocked me. 

Flipping through its contents, I felt the wallet laughing with its big bellied pockets. Neither a dime nor dollar was within its pit, only worn paper items. The closer I looked, the more life began forming in front of me. I saw this person’s body materializing in their junk. I saw their heart, their brain, their hands, their fingers. Their eyes squeezed my chest while turning my stomach into my mouth through their gaze. 

Loose items strewn on my lap, I heard them whisper laughing and singing as they danced in the breeze. I felt desire and adoration pour out from a small ticket, the date smudged by a burgundy lipstick stain. How delighted a business card for the local print shop adorned with circus animals felt being held by its finder, the owner of this collection. Piece by piece I reassembled their life— fitting their person as best I could back into the wallet. Their fingers had become mine, my senses and emotions syncing to each item. 

***

Now, I knew this name could only be so real alongside its fake address, but where was this person? Bottom shelf wine and a miscellaneous ice cream appeared over and over again like weeds in the receipts. Treats sourced from different but local, walking distance stores, Wednesday night, the setting of this almost weekly routine. 

The following Wednesday, I surveilled the wine aisle of one of the few stores frequented by this soul, there were knots in my stomach. Body after body passed me by, as the wallet in my left pocket grew heavier and hot. Where could they be? Where are you? Where was I? What was I even doing? My face burned rosy with embarrassment at the thought of what I was doing but, the weight of the wallet anchored me still. 

I watched.

My toes curled into the floor as I stood there gawking at any person that came this way for a while. I was hopeless. Where the fuck was I and why the fuck was I there?! Their stupid dum dum wrapper, chocolate shop business card, freaky trash saving ass was not gonna be there. I began to leave and rearranged myself to go, I no longer cared. My attempt to leave was fleeting, as the glimmer of wire framed glasses held me still, the wallet burning through my pants. 

Unkempt short pixie hair adorned their figure, too heavy headphones hugged their scalp like a halo. Their body glowed and magnetized me towards them but I resisted. I observed their motions, the way they crouched in their loose fit jeans to read the labels of 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 dollar bottles. Picking a dark red wine, they stood and moved toward the frozen aisle. I kept my distance, standing feet away as they walked, oblivious to my eye. The wallet pulled me toward its true keeper.

I picked up a random pack of gum and followed them to the register, allowing a woman to cut between us, dividing our physical space with the woman’s carrots, tomatoes and broccolis. They presented their blue ID with its qualifying birthday, and the cashier typed it into the system. They tapped to pay with their off-white Iphone, replicating the off-white of their wallet which continued to control my legs. 

The woman in front of me paid and I watched as the wallet-loser left. As if they were an apparition, their color was left trailing behind them as the automatic doors slid closed. I saw my reflection in the dark glass, and let out a small sigh. Why hadn’t I said something?

***

Their Wednesday night routine became mine and our movements became almost rhythmic in nature. The burning pull of the wallet continued and grew more needy as the weeks passed. I would go home and re-structure their body on the floor with the contents of their wallet in desperation. I’d mimic the expressions I bore witness to as they shopped for their weekly indulgence. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOver and over 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤand over ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤand over

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤand over 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤagain

I was there, watching. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI 

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤfell 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤin love.