I worked at a fast food joint. This lady left her Louis Vuitton bag on a table. I grabbed it and put it in lost and found, assuming she would rush back any minute. Luxury bags don’t simply get forgotten, I told myself. But hours passed, then days, and finally an entire month with no sign of her. Our little lost-and-found shelf gathered the usual umbrellas and water bottles, but that bag remained untouched, almost out of place among the everyday clutter. One afternoon, while checking inventory, my boss glanced at it and casually asked, “Do you want the bag? It’s been long enough.” I hesitated, unsure if taking something so valuable was right, but he reminded me that we had followed all the proper procedures. So I finally agreed and unzipped it, expecting a wallet, keys—something. Instead, it was completely empty except for a single folded piece of paper.
The note inside was handwritten in neat, looping cursive. It read: “If you found this, please know that you are meant to receive it. This bag symbolizes a fresh start. Take what you need from this moment forward, and let go of anything that no longer serves you.” I stared at the message for a long while, unsure whether it was part of a kind gesture, a social experiment, or simply someone’s way of letting go of a reminder from their past. Whatever the reason, the words struck me in a way I didn’t expect. At the time, I was struggling quietly—juggling bills, working double shifts, and feeling stuck in a routine that left little room for hope. The message felt like it was speaking directly to the heaviness I had been carrying.
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