Empty Sack

I knew something was wrong when I saw her walking towards me, holding my folder in her hands.

"There you go," she smiled. I'd just managed to thank her before my heart sunk. I stared at my rucksack. It was wide open. And empty.

In my haste to catch my morning train I had done the unthinkable. I had ran the last 200 yards to the station. And, unbeknownst to me, had deposited the contents of my bag onto the road every few steps.

There was my umbrella, lying on the station steps; that CD my friend returned to me last night, strewn on the station concourse; my notebook with my life's work fluttering in the gutter. And my cheese and coleslaw sandwich, lovingly prepared before I left home this morning, abandoned in the middle of the road.

I stared at the multiseed concoction lyin forlornly halfway across the pedestrian crossing.

By some miracle, the wheels of passing cars had missed it. Like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon it had survived by being directly in the centre of the road, thus avoiding certain death.

I considered my options.

Do I abandon my organic friend to its fate or, like the muppet I am, press the button, wait for the green man and boldly walk into the centre of the road, pick up the sandwich and place it in my bag, thus attracting the bewildered gaze of passers-by.

Well, it's just not me to leave a friend in distress.

I made my way back to the station, whistling "Two Little Boys"

Did you think I would leave you lying... when there's room in my bag for two....