After a trip to the gas station, I returned home to change clothes and head out to pick huckleberries. I found my huckleberry bag in the garage and then went inside to change.

After emptying my pockets of knife, flashlight and cell phone, I reached for my wallet — which wasn’t there. I knew I had it at the gas station because I had purchased a soda. But I had also used the bathroom there, and this particular pair of pants was notorious for its small, unsecure pockets. I called the station, but no one had turned it in. I looked everywhere I could think of, finally concluding that someone must have picked it up in the restroom and taken it.

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