Well, I’m back again, your ole pal Tom.
I bet you’re wondering why a hardened gumshoe like me is bothering with all of this writing. Truth is, the doctor says if I don’t find a way to express myself, I’ll be dead before I’m fifty. Doc says the easiest way to do all that expressing is to keep a log of my emotions and memories, what matters to me and what not.
So here it is- the tale of Lenny’s wallet.
Now, I’m not saying ‘Lenny’s wallet’ because it belongs to her, pal. I’m saying it because she gave it to me. I guess you could say I belong to her though, so what’s the difference, eh?
Oh yeah, here’s a photograph of the thing:
I won’t make you bother about the day I actually received it- it was a gift from Lenny for our third anniversary, and that’s all you need to know about that. What I want to talk about is all of the times the thing has saved my life.
You see, I’m a Private Investigator now, and I’ve had a badge for many years. I put that badge right on the outside of my wallet, I keep it right there for easy access.
Now, being in the force, that isn’t the most safe and cozy job, friend. Things have settled down a bit now that I’ve become a gumshoe, but let me tell you, I have been in many a dangerous situation.
I have been shot at exactly six times, and that badge on Lenny’s wallet has deflected a bullet exactly six of those times. It’s like magic, I’ll tell you. Like Lenny gave it to me enchanted or something. Sometimes I like to think that she lives inside of it, you know?
Well, there isn’t much more to it than that. Guess I’m a better gumshoe than a story crafter, huh?
If the doctor’s right, though, I should get better at expressing myself over time.