I realized my wallet was gone when we got to the subway station and I reached for money to buy a ticket. Colby helped retrace my steps, but the only hunch we had was that a cackling homeless man with a really cute dog had possibly found my wallet; if we responded to his heckling by giving him a euro, maybe he would return my wallet. We fought that notion though and saved the euro, having only lost a few in losing my wallet. Colby walked me home and I canceled my credit cards through Skype.
The wallet I used to have was from the Gaylord Opryland gift shop in Nashville, TN. It was black and dependable, and printed with "Grand Ole Opry" in orange and brown. It was a great conversation piece with people at the bank.
Last week Colby went to Portugal and Spain with his father, leaving me alone in our dark, eerie apartment that doesn't have a smoke or carbon monoxide detector. I was bitter, but he made it up to me by buying the cutest coin purse in Southern Europe. In needle-point, it depicts an indigenous couple celebrating the harvest or something. Colby later admitted to me that he bought it in the Portuguese airport, but it made little-to-no difference in the way I felt.