At the self-checkout, I forgot my receipt. A woman hurried over, smiling as she handed it back. “You dropped this,” she said. I thanked her and went home, thinking nothing of it.
That evening, unpacking groceries, I noticed handwriting on the back: Check your back seat. My pulse quickened.
Curiosity pushed me outside. When I opened the car, there it was—my missing wallet, tucked in the corner. Relief flooded through me.
She must’ve seen it but couldn’t catch me, so she left the note instead.
Her simple act stayed with me. In a world that often feels hurried and detached, she reminded me that kindness still exists—quiet, thoughtful, and sometimes scribbled on the back of a forgotten receipt.
