The other day, I was in a bus, minding my own business, listening to music, casually vibing. I pulled out my wallet to get the bus ticket — and for some reason, it felt heavier than usual.
Now, this wasn’t payday. I hadn’t been to the ATM. And I barely use cash anymore. So I got curious. A little later, I opened it up and began doing that ritual clean-up: POS slips, to-do list, ration coupon, and no — no ex-girlfriend photo, don’t worry. What is this, 1995?! If anything, she’s in my Google Drive… kidding, sorry girl, joke-joke, trust me. 😅
Anyway, I found an Easy Credit Card from “HIMYM Bank” (changing names to protect myself from lawsuits and sitcom references).
They’d recently upgraded me to an Elite card — thanks to my evolving credit score, baby — so this one didn’t even work anymore.
I pulled the old card out and absentmindedly tried to slide it into my shirt pocket… only to remember this was one of those pocket-less shirt days. The kind of day where you suddenly realize just how valuable pockets are. 😤
I tossed it into my pants pocket and moved on. My bus ride lasted another hour, and I got off at my stop, earphones still in, wire trailing from my pants to my ears. Jake Gyllenhaal in Demolition Man style.
I even took a selfie mid-walk. Just normal, urban chaos.
And then—WHACK.
A woman tapped my shoulder from behind. No, slapped. Not hard, but firm. Urgent.
I turned, startled.
She shouted:
> “I’ve been calling out ‘Anna! Uncle!’ for the last 100 meters! You dropped your card!”
I blinked. She was holding up my old credit card — the expired, worthless one I meant to throw away.
I quickly pulled out my earphones in respect, stunned by both the act and her tone.
I couldn’t even speak at first.
Maybe shock. Maybe shame. Maybe gratitude.
I thanked her in silence, nodded, pocketed the card again, and quietly walked into my workplace. Once I sat down, I pulled out a pair of scissors and cut that card in half. It held no value anymore, but that moment? It stayed with me.
Because she didn’t know the card was useless.
She just knew it wasn’t hers — and that it mattered to someone.
She ran, called out, insisted on returning it. And that — that is honor.
It reminded me of a reel I once saw. A lady holding a plastic bag. A thief grabs it and runs. Moments later, a vigilante-type dude catches the thief and returns the bag… only for the woman to walk over and toss it in the nearby trash.
Funny? Yes.
But the point stuck with me — people still care. Not because they know the value of what they’re saving, but because they believe in doing the right thing.
And that’s what I want to say today.
> Honor Among Us is still a thing.
There are good people walking among us.
You may not notice them until they shout “Anna!” from 100 meters behind.
Kachow. ⚡
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