Apartment Finder Magazine 
Wrights Flexi Lace Hem Facing 
Twig 
Apple
An Apple
A Twig
Wrights Flexi Lace Hem Facing, and
Apartment Finder Magazine
I came upon these discarded items, in that order, during a single ten-minute walk. What could these items mean? The sleuth in me could not let go of the evidence.
Eventually, the order of events became obvious:
Eva sat on the grass in the park, the breeze softly moving her hair. Yesterday’s college graduation marked the beginning of her life of New Choices. She would get her own place now, finally, leaving the restrictions of dormitory life behind. She breathed in her newfound freedom. Yes, everything would become different. She would have a career and new friendships of her choosing.
“You look happy,” came a voice from just behind her. “I’ve been watching you from up the hill. Care to share a bit of my picnic?” He handed her the apple.
Two hours later, Eva took off down the hill, to the park’s exit. To her surprise, the apple was still in her hand. It had been two of the best hours she could remember—he, another lingering graduate from yesterday’s ceremony, was witty and a bit eccentric in a disarming sort of way. Laughter made his eyes shut tight, and she liked that. In the joy of the moment, she balanced on a brick wall, placing foot before foot, being careful to keep her balance.
Only later did she recall that during her balancing act, she had left the apple on top of the wall.
Not bowing quite low enough beneath a young tree, a twig grabbed at her hair and broke off. Eva plucked it from her hair, noticing round seeds attached to it. She took it as a good omen—her graduation, the delightful picnic in the park, the promise of a full life ahead. To celebrate all of this, she placed her small Twig of Hope into the utility cover beneath her feet.
I’m still not sure what Wrights Flexi Lace Hem Facing is used for, but she had a package of it in her purse, ready for a sewing project. Our friend, Eva, is handy with a needle and thread. Maybe she was going to decorate a pair of jeans or trim the edge of a handmade tablecloth. In any case, the package of Wrights Flexi Lace Hem Facing fell out of her purse, just as she reached into it and pulled out her wallet to buy a newspaper. She would enshrine the newspaper, which documented the headlines of the First Day of Her New Life, framing it on the wall of the new apartment she would rent.
She noticed the neighboring magazine stand that held Apartment Finder Magazine. Of course! She would pick up a free copy to find her new residence! She eagerly rifled through the apartment guide.
But wait. I wondered at the story of Eva that I had imagined. Why, if this series of events had transpired, had I found the apartment publication still there, left behind on the magazine stand, opened to the page showing the apartments she had envied? Perhaps I’ve gotten the story twisted. There’s no explanation that fits this scenario. Why would she leave the publication behind? My story of the series of items that were left behind, the apple, the twig, the Wrights Flexi Lace Hem Facing and the Apartment Finder Magazine must all be mistaken, though it all seemed so plausible!
But now, as I revise and replay the scenes with the cast of characters, the mystery suddenly becomes clear to me!
I’m staring at Eva reading the magazine, so caught up in her dreams that she does not hear the approaching steps behind her. Suddenly an abrupt and familiar chuckle catches her attention and she spins around, gazing directly into those eyes, now shut tight, closed in laughter. The young man apologizes for frightening her.
“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but I had to follow. The park got awfully quiet and lonely after you left. I had no choice; I just had to follow.”
I gradually lost their conversation through their laughter as they strolled away together.
From atop the magazine rack, Apartment Finder Magazine quietly flapped its pages in the breeze. The apartments could wait for another day; this was the first day of the rest of her life.