La cartera perdida

Nico realizes his wallet is missing the exact moment he touches his back pocket and feels nothing. It is not a small worry like “maybe it is at home”. It is a sudden empty feeling in his stomach that means: it was here, and now it is not. He looks in all the usual places: on the kitchen table, in the sink, and on the little shelf next to the entrance. That wallet does not appear anywhere.

“Okay,” Nico says in a low voice. “Think.” He rewinds the day in his head. First stop: the supermarket. He paid with the card, put the receipt somewhere, and walked to the car. Second stop: the gym. He checked in with his phone, used a locker, worked out, showered, and left. And now he is here with the groceries and without his wallet. He forces himself to keep calm. He goes back to the supermarket first because it is closer and because he remembers the checkout clearly.

Inside the supermarket, the air smells like warm bread and cold products from the fruit and vegetable section. Nico goes to customer service and tries so his voice doesn't shake. “Hello,” he says. “I think I have lost my wallet.” The employee nods as if this happens every day. “When did you lose it?” “Earlier today… I think it must have been around ten,” Nico says. “Can you describe the wallet?”, the employee asks. Nico swallows. “Black leather. Medium size. It folds. It has a small scratch in the corner. Inside is my ID.” The employee opens a drawer and checks without much ceremony. Nico looks, pretending he doesn't do it. The employee shakes his head. “Nothing that matches that description, and of course no wallet with your ID.”

“Could it be with the cashiers?” Nico asks. “At which checkout did you pay?”, the employee answers. Nico thinks hard. “At checkout six, near the self-checkouts.” “Wait here,” the employee says. Nico waits, listening to beeps, steps, and people talking about dinner. The employee comes back. “They have not handed in any wallet at checkout six.” Nico nods, feeling his chest tighten. “Okay. Thanks.” Maybe I left it at the gym, Nico thinks. Perhaps I left it by mistake in one of the lockers. Surely many people forget the wallet in the lockers, he tells himself. Nico forces a polite smile. “Thank you for your time,” he says.

In the gym, the reception desk is very busy, but an employee looks up when Nico comes closer. “Hi,” Nico says. “I think I lost my wallet today. I was here before.” “What time were you here?,” she asks. “About two hours ago,” Nico says. “Can you describe it?” Nico repeats the description: black leather, it folds, a small scratch, the ID inside. The employee nods, types something, and disappears to check the lost-and-found area. She comes back with a clear plastic box with random things — headphones, a glove, a water bottle —. There is no wallet. “It’s not here,” she says. “Did you check your locker?” “I emptied it,” Nico says. “I am sure.”

“Sometimes things slide behind a bench,” she says. “We can look.” Nico nods, and they go into the changing room. They check around his locker and the bench, under the bench, behind, near the showers… nothing. Nico notices the panic starting to rise in him, hot and irrational. Still, he gives her his number. “If someone hands it in, call me,” he says, and she writes it down. When Nico returns to the car, he sits in the driver’s seat without starting the engine, and he tries to think where his wallet could be. He thinks that maybe he has to call the police to report the loss.

He asks himself a simple question: when was the last time he remembers touching the wallet? At the supermarket, he remembers taking it out to pay. At the gym, he does not remember touching it at all, because he checked in with an app. So the last moment he clearly remembers having the wallet was at the supermarket, when paying. After that… did he put it in his pocket like always?

Nico remembers something small but annoying. In the supermarket parking lot, he sat in the car for a moment. He got hot, took off his jacket, and adjusted his jeans because the wallet in his back pocket was uncomfortable when driving. He opens his eyes wide. He looks between the seat and the center console. Nothing. Then he looks in the narrow gap by the door, that dark space that collects coins and lost time. He lowers his hand slowly, and his fingers touch leather.

Nico stays frozen, and then he raises his hand: the wallet comes out like a guilty secret—black, folded, familiar, with the small scratch in the corner. He looks at it for a second, as if it could be a trick, and then he laughs, half relief and half anger. “It has slipped,” he thinks. “It has slipped out of my pocket and fallen next to the seat.” He opens it right away. Cards, ID, everything. Nico leans back and holds the wallet with both hands, letting the fear leave him little by little.

He does not want to tell anyone how close he was to canceling all the cards and replacing each document. He simply puts the wallet in his front pocket—where it should have been from the beginning—starts the car, and drives home feeling lighter. Not because the wallet was heavy, but because the panic is gone. While he drives, the wallet feels uncomfortable, and he decides to adjust his pants…