Knife

 

One year I flew to Germany for a week so I could spend Christmas with my ex-girlfriend. The airport that I flew out of for that trip was Newark Liberty International. At the airport, I realized that the Swiss army knife that my cousin had gifted me was in my backpack. Instead of throwing out the knife—which was my first thought; after all, what was I to do?—I hid it outside the terminal, in some shrubbery near a designated smoking area. 

When I got back from my trip, I had totally forgotten about the knife. However, as I was leaving the airport I remembered it. For a minute I thought that I would just let it go. After all, what were the chances that the knife was still there? But then, a little voice went off in my head: Come on, Chad, your cousin got you that knife. I listened to the voice and trekked over to the designated smoking area. The knife was still there. I still have it today.