Lost and Found on 42nd Street
The subway stops at 42nd Street and the train clears before its final stop at 57th. I see a flash drive sitting on a nearby seat and call out to the exiting riders. Nobody claims it. I’ve returned a lost wallet and had someone do the same for me when mine went missing. And the Friday before, I had a similar flash drive melt so I was particularly keen to get this one back. Though I am no spiritual woo woo, I believe in karma. I will always endeavor to return anything of value, even the lost and found prosthetic legs I’ve read about. I take the flash drive to my desk and pop it in the computer. It’s filled with work files for Oxford University Press publications with 2009 release dates. I find one document that sheds some light: “Files for Myra.” I call the receptionist and am transferred to Myra’s line. I leave a message. She calls back minutes later. (One way to get your call returned promptly.) I read her a list of the files on the flash drive. She says they’re important and that