Under a broken old cart lay a wallet, just hidden by the web of shadows cast down upon it. The old cart seen its years of wear and tear. Wood chips, stains, and missing boards made the cart unrecognizable of its old self. Rust had eaten away the axle resulting in a missing wheel. Most people would have thrown the piece of junk away, being that it could never again hold nor carry anything of great significance. Being a possession of an old Chinese store owner, however, meant it still had some usefulness. The owner thought of using it as fire wood, but soon figured it made one great door stop to hold his door open on cool afternoons. The leftover wheel acted as a hinge on the ground as he pushed the heaping pieces of wood against the door. He found it very clever and had given the cart a pat, where the cart returned with a nasty little splinter in his finger. So it was no wonder on this day that no one looked in the direction of the monstrosity to find a wallet someone had accidentally dropped under the guard of the cart. No one except the one who will find its owner.
It was fate that brought the little Tibetan girl down to the level of the wallet. Her left battered and soiled shoe had become untied. There was barely enough lace to make a knot and she frequently had to re-tie them. Not your typical Tibetan girl, she traded her colorful traditional garments for traditional street clothes the other teenage kids of her age wore. Working in the city made her want to fit in with the others. So she dressed with the latest looking jeans, a cute pink American branded shirt, and covered herself in a cotton black hoodie. It was hard to feel accepted in this town full of people from the far east wearing clothes that gave them an awkward look. s more comfortable, she convinced herself, and everyone seems to like it. Even my aunties. She leaned over to grab the frayed ends of her shoe strings. Before she could start he meticulous task of tying her hated laces, a little leather object sat in the dark screaming for her attention with a little glint of metal. Like a frail child whose lost its voice to call out for help, she reached under the cart and pulled out the wallet. Black leather, finely stitched, with a silver logo that gleamed in the lantern light. It was that logo that contacted her with a little trail of light that came through the entanglements of the broken cart. She knew exactly what is was but was too scared to open it. This is ones belongings, ones treasure, and most importantly, ones reward for hard days of work. Still, she knew she had to open it. Hoping there was some kind of identification, she shifted through the cards. With just a glimpse at the first few cards, she new it belonged to an American. The writing was familiar to her. Shes seen it several times on TV in the rare cases she sat down to watch one. There were a few cards with a picture on it. All of the pictures displayed a middle-aged white male. Balding hair and a graying beard, he looked as if he saw more years than his life had intended. Though his eyes still carried a kindness that reminded her of the local elders. There were a few pictures. Him with a lady, most likely his wife, and a few other pictures of his children sitting in professional poses. She flipped the wallet length wise and saw the sleeve where the money was held. Her eyes widened as she noticed the large amounts of bills, both in U.S. dollars and Chinese renminbi. She counted eight one hundred dollar bills and ten one hundred renminbi bills. Nervously she held the wallet close to her body, hiding it inside the left side of her jacket. She peered around to see if she noticed any foreigners that may match the picture. After a few minutes she decided to walk off towards her friends clothing shop around the block. Her untied shoe laces flopping erratically behind every other step.
Once she arrived at the store, her friend knew something was going on. Hes never seen her in such a state before. His mom also noticed and came over from the register.
s wrong? he asked.
I found someones wallet. And she looked around as if someone may be listening and whispered, s alot of money in it. he said, as both father and mother came over for a look.
I need a safe place to keep this while I go look for the owner.You can keep it with us the boy said looking to his mother who nodded hastily.
She gave them an odd look. Never before has she seen her friend act this way before. They always shared food, shared jokes, and shared the hardship of the times that came to this town. It was only a year since they met, a year ago when tourism was high in the town and the shop was in need of an extra craftsman. Tourism had died down now, almost completely. And she couldnt imagine that the people she considered her friends would act in a different light for one tourists misfortune.
I think Ill just hold on to it.
He blinked, Well, let me see it. I never seen a foreigners before. He walked over as she spun around.
No. I have to go.s wrong with you? These people are rich. Theyll hardly notice one or two bills missing. Its their credit cards they really care about. He yelled, grabbing her arms and wrenching her hands out of her jacket. Give it to me! she struggled.
His hands pried her grip from the wallet, exposing a few bills from the sleeve, as they danced around the clothing shop. Being more than six inches higher than the girl, the spoiled boys strength paled in comparison to the girl whose days before working at the shop involved hard farm work. Everyday, included working in the fields, herding the animals, and carrying loads of loads of good to and from the city. At the moment it appeared the girls strength was far greater than the boys, the mother snatch the exposed bills and pushed both of the kids to the ground. The boy fell onto the floor releasing his grip, while the girl still holding on fell straight back onto the corner of the table.
Get out of my shop little girl. I cant believe you people have no sense about you. Youd rather let your family starve to death than take a loaf of bread on the street. You think youre better than us? You wont survive in this world! Get out! Dont ever come into this shop again! screamed the mother.
The girl ran out sobbing and holding the wallet under her coat once again.
She got into a her usual cab and asked the driver to take her home. All along the way, she sobbed under the twilight sky. The cut from the table on her upper right shoulder blade didnt resonate with her until she got home. The trip took forty minutes to get to her village outside of town. Into her grandmothers arms she went tearfully. Noticing the blood on her back, her grandmother took her in and prepared for a long night of disinfecting and hand stitching the wounds.
Her grandmother sat next to the fireplace in her old wooden house. She knelt on cushions sewn from old yak fur whose vibrant color of red, accented with black, white, and turquoise patterns, faded with the years of use. Wearing her family headdress of red with white lining and uniform of crimson, black, and turquoise, she gave the aura of the wisest lady of the village, a title she rightfully deserved. These were the traditional Tibetan garments. To complement the clothing were beads, rings, and bracelets made of nothing more than stone. Stones that were more precious to them than gold or diamonds. She looked down on her grand daughter who was lying face down on a mat she prepared for her. Pulling off the little girls jacket, she was slower than her younger years. But every subtle move these days were all about caution and precision. Her eyes failed to see clearly these days. Cataracts has crept up on her over the years. With no convenient access to modern medicine, she just blames it on her old age.
What was this all about? her grandmother asked.
I found a wallet. It had alot of money in it. I wanted my boss to hold it for me, but I felt strange. the grandmother questioned as she dabbed a wet cloth around the wound. They had a look to their eyes? The look of greed?Yes, its not theirs. Its not mine. The little girl closed her eyes and became angry. Mainly at herself, of the situation the wallet had got her into. Shes now seen the true side of her friend. A side she didnt want to know about, a side she still couldnt hold it in her heart to be true. Her job in the city was lost. There was no way she could contribute money to the family, yet she had this wallet that could pay for six months of work in there. The blood boiled and her fists tightened. Just then she noticed she was still holding onto the wallet even after her grandmother had taken off her jacket. She looked down at it, gazed, and the slowly put it on the stool. re still someone elses belongings.
The candle lights didnt provide the best environment to stitch, but the grandmothers care for her grand daughter was great enough to make sure no mistake was made. They hardly spoke during the procedure. Only a few gasps came from the girl as the needle point made its way into her skin. Her sadness gave her enough numbness to endure a small needle. Afterwards, the grandmother kissed the girls head, leaned over and spoke into her ear softly You are so special. Not many people know the evil money possesses. You are right to protect the strangers belongings. Its rightfully theirs and no other should lay claim to it simply because its been separated from its owner. Its a wonder how you came to me.
The girl smiled to herself and rolled under the arms of her grandmother.
The next few days the girl stood outside of the store where she found the wallet. No longer holding a job she had all day to stand there. It wasnt long until an old American man and his wife came to the store. She beamed at them before they entered the store and tried her best to say in English. They looked less than impressed, because they were more interested in getting into the shop to ask if the owner saw his wallet. She spoke in Mandarin in hopes they would understand, but seeing their reaction, there was some comprehension in their eyes, but overall it was hopeless. So she simply pulled out the wallet and presented it to them with both her hands. Bowing she couldnt tell what expression they had. however, once they took the wallet and she looked up she saw that the confused faces had changed to happiness. Words flew out of their mouths at what appeared to be thanks to the little girl. They looked through their cards and at their money and to the girl back to the wallet, flipping it back and forth. The man stood there and counted the money and ended with a cheerful smile and response to the girl, who didnt understand a word. All she caught in the massive array of words were thank you, , and . She just stood there nodding and laughed along. It made her feel great to see the couple grateful, especially when she had put in her own money to replace the ones taken by the people from her old store. She refused any attempt from the couple in reimbursing her with money or items theyd try to buy for her. But she soon found herself being led by the woman down through the streets to a nice restaurant, where they insisted she join them for dinner. Reluctantly she accepted as she eyed the clock, knowing her grandmother was home waiting. There was enough time, she thought to herself. Laughter erupted from the restaurant as the group talked in the limited forms of communication they had. Hours went by, and eventually laughter became thankful goodbyes as the group dispersed. The foreign travelers had a new destination ahead of them, thanks to a little Tibetan girl. As for her, it was back into the taxi and back to her village outside of town. Forty minutes away, the girl knew she was going to be home later than usual.
The girl walked into her grandmothers house carrying a large flat square box. She yawned, handed it to her grandmother sitting on the cushioned floors. Subconsciously she started to touch her wound on her back. t touch it too often dear, youll make it into a scar, her grandmother warned. It always amazed her how her grandmother knew without even being able to see that well. She dropped her hands and knelt behind her grandmother. It was dark and the only light in the house was the fire which was keeping the stove and the house warm.
What is this? The grandmother asked as she lifted open box.
In an attempt to speak the proper English name of the food, the girl replied closing her tired eyes, and slowly started to lean against her grandmothers back. The man and his wife of the wallet bought me food. Too much food. I didnt get a chance to try this so they gave it to me to bring home. the grandmother mimicked, as the girl wrapped her arms around her grandmothers tummy and nestled her face on a comfortable spot on her grandmothers back.
What on earth have they done to this bread? She reached down and pulled off the toppings one by one tasting everything, but once she got to the tomato sauce she grimaced, My, I say again, what have they done? The little girl giggled not knowing or even caring, but just giggled at the tone of the remarks.
Picking up one of the slices, the grandmother peeled off the cheese, the pepperoni, then the green peppers, then the olives, and finally the crust that had the tomato sauce and took a bite into nothing but the pizza dough.
She turned her head slightly back to her grand daughter and concluded, I do like this pisssa.
There was no response, the little girl had already fallen asleep.

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