I was on the phone at Tanjong Pagar MRT station recently when something shiny on the floor caught my eye.
I picked it up. It was a ring, made perhaps of platinum, with a large sparkling stone, maybe a diamond. Pretty.
I looked around – no one. I walked to the ticket counter and reported my find to the woman there. I asked her if I could leave the ring with her, in case someone came looking.
She gave me a scrap of paper to write my name and number on, which I did, and left.
And that was the end of the matter – or so I thought.
Two days later, I was catching up on the day’s happenings. The news was gloomy. The pandemic was on a rampage in the region. The mood was dour.
A meek pip on the phone announced a WhatsApp text. “Dear Jaldeep, we are the couple who lost our engagement ring…”
It was a note of gratitude, and it was effusive. It made me smile.