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A carpet layer is just finishing up installing carpet for a woman…
He wipes his forehead, pleased with the job, and steps outside for a much-needed smoke.
As he pats his pockets, his brow furrows. He can’t find his cigarettes…
He retraces his steps mentally. Did he leave them on the kitchen counter? Maybe in the truck?…
Then he spots it: a small, telltale bump right in the middle of the freshly laid carpet. His heart sinks.
“No way,” he mutters. He’s not about to undo all his hard work for a single pack of smokes…
He stares at the bump, trying to convince himself that it’s not as bad as it looks.
Grabbing his trusty hammer, he gives the bump a few solid whacks, pressing it down until it’s flush with the rest of the floor…
He then steps back, admiring his handiwork.
As he starts packing up his tools, the lady comes in, holding something in her hand…
“Oh, here!” she says cheerfully, handing him his pack of cigarettes, “I found them in the hallway!”
He freezes, staring at the cigarettes in her hand…
His mind races, wondering what that bump might have been.
Before he can even formulate a response, the lady continues, looking around the room with a frown, “Now… “
“If only I could find my turtle.”
