The Wallet

At half past four in the morning, Luis came into the café fast. He didn't say hello. He didn't order a muffin. He put a brown leather wallet on the counter.

"Look at this," he said. "It was on the back seat of my taxi."

Maya looked at the wallet. It was old and soft, and one corner was broken. "Is there any money in it?"

"No money. No bank cards. Nothing." Luis opened it. "Only this."

He took out three things and put them on the counter, one by one. A train ticket. A small photo. And a folded piece of paper.

The ticket was for a train from Toronto to Montreal. It left Union Station at 6:40 that morning.

The photo showed an old woman and a young man. They stood in front of a small house with a blue door. The woman was laughing.

Maya unfolded the paper. It was a letter, in careful handwriting.

Daniel, the doctors say it is time to come home. Grandma is asking for you every day. We will meet you at the station in Montreal. Love, Mom.

For a moment, nobody said anything.

"When did you drive him?" Maya asked.