“This will be my exercise for the day,” I thought as I left the bar, planning to walk home.
Like most winter nights in New York City, I was in a cab a minute later. I hop in and land on something blocky. It feels like a seat belt. I don’t wear seat belts in cabs, but didn’t want to sit on it for the entirety of the ride. I reach under me and feel familiar plastic: an iPhone case.
I yell up to the cab driver. “Hey, someone left a phone back here.” He mumbles something into his bluetooth headset, ignoring me.
I tap the home button and the screen lights up. It’s locked. Glowing behind the keypad is a picture of a dog. White with brown ears. A basset hound, I think.
It’s the new iPhone with the fingerprint reader, which I heard were faulty. I press down…
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