Backpack Mix-Up at the Marathon

The humidity was thick, and the roar of the crowd was deafening as I stood behind

the marathon water station. Suddenly, a runner skidded to a halt in front

of me, his eyes darting wildly. He realized his backpack was missing,

and panic surged through him like a storm. That’s when I noticed I was clutching an

identical black bag in my hands. "Is this it?" I asked, holding it out.

His name tag read ‘Jake,’ and the relief on his face was instant—until he opened it.

"This isn't mine either!" Jake groaned, as a pair of shoes that definitely

weren't his spilled onto the pavement. We both looked at each other and burst into laughter amidst