Only three hours ago, the world had been different. Lena had walked out of an office building, her stomach churning with the realization that she’d failed another interview. “We’ll be in touch,” the woman had said, but her eyes had already been on the next resume. Lena had stumbled over her words, her desperation leaking through her professional veneer like ink in water. She needed to breathe, so she detoured through the greenery of Halden Park.
The park was a blur of mundane life. A toddler shrieked near the swings; a woman struggled with a stubborn terrier; a courier on a bicycle whizzed past, his red delivery bag a streak of primary color against the grey sky. Lena saw them, but she didn’t see them. Her mind was a calculator, frantically adding up rent, overdue electric bills, and the dwindling balance in her checking account.
She slumped onto a weathered wooden bench, burying her face in her hands. That was when she saw it. Tucked against the iron leg of the bench, half-hidden by a drift of dead leaves, sat the purse. It looked out of place—too expensive, too pristine for the mud. She reached for it, a fateful instinct she would replay a thousand times in the coming hours.