A few years ago, the company I worked for sent my wife and me to live in New York for a year. I've always loved running, so I was happy when I found out the house we lived in was next to Central Park. This means I could go to the park to run every morning before I went to work.
A lot of people had told me to be careful of robbers in the park, so usually I didn't take any money with me. But one morning, my wife gave me a $10 bill and asked me to buy some bread on the way.
While I was running through the park, another runner knocked into me. Just as I was wondering what was happening, he said sorry to me and went on running. I thought it was kind of strange, and suddenly I thought of my money, so I checked my pocket and found that my money was missing. Without thinking twice, I ran after that runner. The minute I held him by the arm, I shouted, “Give my money back! Now!” I'm not usually a hot-headed person, but I got really angry this time. He seemed to be afraid and he took out the money and gave it to me. Then he ran away as quickly as he could.
I bought the bread and went home. As soon as I got home, I began to tell my wife my story. “You won't believe what happened to me.” I started. She immediately stopped me, “I know, you left the money for the bread on the kitchen table.”
