The Pen

Dave was a normal man. An average man, who led an average life, and had average concerns. He was eating his lunch at a nice little diner across the street from work when it happened. This average man with an average life would have his whole world flipped into chaos for exactly two minutes.

He'd just finished a delicious lunch. A turkey avocado club sandwich, with a slice of mountain dew cake for dessert. It was delicious, but soon, the calamity would strike his peaceful afternoon.

The waitress came over and set his tab down on the table, with a pen so he could sign the receipt. He did so, placed his card on the tab, and it was whisked away to pay for his meal.

It was then that he noticed it. The pen the waitress had left for him to sign his receipt with was sitting in his hand. He'd never given it back.

This was a disaster.

What if she thought he'd stolen it? What if he HAD just stolen it? What would she think when she came back with his card? If she saw the pen in his hand, she'd know he never gave it back to her. But if she noticed it was gone, then she would already be able to guess because he was the last person she gave the pen to. And if he was the last person she gave the pen to, then she'd know he stole it. She'd called the cops, the SWAT, her manager... he'd be sentenced to life in prison, he'd lose his job, his house, any hope of finding a girlfriend, he'd die alone with a horde of cats...

Or the cats would judge him for his lying, thieving ways and not even THEY would stay with him, so he'd just die alone. Rejected by even cats. Not even the rats that lived in the attic would associate with him.

No.

He couldn't let that happen. He had to return this pen. But would it be awkward? He didn't want to disturb the waitress's work over a pen...

Oh, she was coming back. This was his chance.

"Here's your card back, have a great day!" She said cheerfully, dropping the card and his receipt on the table in front of him. A customer called her over and she turned to leave.

No.

"Uh, ma'am?" He watched her turn back and held out the pen. "Forgot your pen..."

"Oh! Thanks, would hate to lose that. It's my last one." She took the pen and left to go help the customer.

Crisis averted. Pen returned. Dave could relax...

... Except that the store's copy of the receipt was sitting on the table instead of the customer copy.