⏱ ~3 min reading
On Wednesday, mom took Ivanka to the store with her. A large store with long shelves, high racks, and carts with squeaky wheels.
Ivanka was four and a half years old — he was already walking next to the stroller by himself, holding onto the side. Mom bought milk, bread, cheese, and something else green in a bag.
Ivanko froze in the stationery department. There were stickers. Notebooks with princesses. Pencils. And a whole wall of stickers — in bags, in books, separately.
Ivanko looked. He especially liked the stars — gold, with sparkles. The kind that stick to the jacket and shine.
Mom stopped nearby:
— You can choose one sticker book if you want.
— I want to!
Mom allowed it. Ivanko began to choose — for a long time, because each one was interesting. Mom went further, to the neighboring department, to get tea.
And then Ivanko saw her.
On the floor, near the shelf, lay a small sticker. A separate one. A gold star—exactly the one he wanted. Someone must have dropped it. Or peeled it off a large sheet and not noticed.
Ivanko sat down. He picked up the star. It stuck to his finger — beautiful, shiny.
«"This is mine!" Ivanko thought. "I found it.".
He put the star in his pocket. He took another sticker book from the shelf—the one that Mom had allowed him to have. And he ran to Mom.
Mom paid at the cash register. She put the purchases in bags. They went outside into the sun, where the smell of fresh paving stones after the morning rain was strong.
At home, Ivanko took out his little star. He put it on the table. He wanted to stick it on his jacket.
Mom saw:
— Where is this from?
"I found it. In the store. It was lying on the floor.".
Mom sat down next to me. She didn't scold me. She looked at me seriously.
— Ivanka, whose do you think she is?
— A draw. Lying on the floor.
— It was lying there. But a store is not a street. Everything in the store belongs to the store until someone pays for it.
"So it fell out of the bag?"
"Maybe. It's just that someone hasn't bought the bag yet. It's like you went to your neighbor's house, saw a cookie on his shelf that had fallen out of the box, and took it in your pocket.".
Ivanko wrinkled his forehead. He thought. The star lay on the table - small, shiny, but no longer so attractive.
"What if I gave it to the cashier?"
— That would be fair.
— And now?
"Now we'll go back and give it back. If you want, I can buy you one just like it. But this one isn't ours.".
Ivanko sighed. He nodded. He took the star in his fist. They got dressed again — Mom patiently, without haste.
At the store, Ivanko approached the cashier. The cashier, a young woman with pink nails and kind eyes, leaned toward him.
"Auntie. This is yours. I found it on the floor.".
The cashier took the star. She smiled:
"Oh, thank you, boy. I'll put it in our lost and found box. If no one takes it, I'll take it to my notebook.".
Mom bought Ivanko a new star. Exactly the same. At home, Ivanko glued it to his jacket.
— Mom?
— What, son?
— Does this one shine as brightly as that one?
"Just like that, kitty. Only this one is yours. And that one was someone else's.".
Ivanko looked at the star. It shone on his jacket and he felt warmer. Because an honest star shines a little brighter. Whether it was imaginary, he didn't know. But it was.
💡 A find is not property.