“Here, let me help you,” a voice said, picking Mary Jane up. She instantly locked eyes with a scruffy young man with an impish smile. The pouch had spilled out its contents and he bent down to pick them up, but stopped short at the sight of the harmonica.

“Where did you get this?” He said, looking at Mary Jane curiously.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She replied, dusting the warm sand from her cutoff shorts.

“Trust me, if there’s an old native woman involved, I surely will,” he said, squinting back the bright sun.

“Wait,” Mary Jane said, “Did you say old native woman?”

“Yeah, she stole this from me, not to mention my wallet, and my bus ticket,” he said annoyed.

“That’s so weird, because she came up to me three days ago and asked me to find the owners of these objects,” Mary Jane said motioning to the pouch.

“We should talk this over,” he said looking around suspiciously.

“Over Diet Coke would be preffered,” she said with a laugh.