ADVERTISEMENT
That morning, I had a very important job interview. I stepped out of the house, and there was immediate chaos: a woman had lost her money. She was standing by the bus stop near my flat in North London, frantically patting down the pockets of her oversized coat and dumping the contents of a tattered handbag onto the pavement like her life depended on it. Her face was a mask of pure, unfiltered panic, the kind that makes your stomach drop just by looking at it. I could hear her whispering to herself, “Please, no, not today,” over and over again, as she scanned the wet concrete for a twenty-pound note that clearly wasn’t there anymore.
