Scraping, scratching, scrounging, the aged man searched for something as he moved slowly along and kept digging around as a squirrel searches for its hidden acorns. His movements became continually more frantic as he kept going, not finding whatever it was which he searched. “It’s got to be here,” I could hear him mutter to himself as his panic grew.

The locker for which he searched was not there. He would never find it, because it was draped around my neck. His breathing quickened and I could almost feel his heart beating faster as he sat down in defeat.

A panic attack set in as he sat there, realizing that the last valuable object which he owned was gone. I opened the locket and extracted the tiny paper from inside which held directions to a treasure which was coveted by many.

The old man cried silently as I walked away. The clue clutched in my hands, I dropped the locket in the dust.