Oblivious

“Excuse me …”

I didn’t hear the man I had parked behind at the gas station call out. I was concentrating on putting gasoline in the containers in front of me. I didn’t see he was trying to get my attention.

“Excuse me …”

One container filled, I moved onto the next.

Excuse me … sir?”

I looked up, not only hearing him but realizing he had been attempting to attract my attention.

“Yes?” I responded.

“There’s a triple ‘A’ right over there …”

I looked to where the man was pointing over his shoulder, bobbing his finger in the direction he to look.

“There is at that,” I confirmed.

“They can help you out, I’m sure” he offered.

I was puzzled why he was offering this information but I played along. “They’ve helped many people before. In need, they could help me, too.”

“Looks like that need is evident right now,” he told me.

I just stared at him, wondering what in the world he was talking about. There had to have been a quizzical look on my face as the conversation progressed because he began smirking.

He pointed to his chest … and then he pointed at mine.

I’d forgotten: I was wearing my “Lost” T-shirt …

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