Finders Keepers
By Rob Rosen
Red-eyes, the very bane of my existence.
Careerwise, I was frequently required on both coasts, but I chose to live on the west one rather than the east. The weather was nicer, the men were hotter, and I’d take earthquakes over sleet anytime.
On that particular run, I was leaving on an almost-midnight flight, having to be in New York for an early morning meeting. Slogging through the airport, barely even aware of my surroundings, I’d come to the sad realization that the United terminal had become my veritable second home. Collapsing onto a too-hard seat, my briefcase toppling to the worn carpet, I stared downward and sighed.
It was then I spotted it: a shiny penny, faceup, brimming with good luck.
Superstition taking hold of me, I bent down to retrieve the
