“Maybe I just destroy them and never do it again.” Is what I accidentally blurted out to my friend over the phone. “It wouldn’t have happened if someone took responsibility for their stuff and stopped giving their stuff to another person for ‘safe-keeping’.” I continued, trying to play it off.

“I just don’t understand how you lost it in the first place.” he responds.

“I’m telling you man, it must have been misplaced before you even gave the box to me.” I said while trying to sound clueless.

“The whole point of giving you the box of cards was so nothing got misplaced while I was moving!”

I could tell he was getting frustrated, and I was slowly losing the argument. In hindsight it would be easier if I just apologized.

“What’s the point trying to make a bunch of fuss out of a single card anyway?” I asked, trying a different approach to the conversation.

“What? What did you just say? Why wouldn’t I be angry at you for losing a two thousand dollar baseball card!?”

I paused. Then sighed. There was my last hope thrown out the window. I was banking on the fact that he might have forgotten the price but it was of no use. My final chance was to come clean and redeem myself. So I responded with remorse in my voice: “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I know that card was worth a lot in money and worth a lot to you. The truth is I actually didn’t lose the card at all. I instead traded it into this one shop just a few towns over and. . .”

“Traded it in for what? What could have possibly been so worth it that you decided to trade my most valuable card.”

I could really sense the anger in his voice now. “Listen, listen.” I said, trying to diffuse the situation a little. “I went over to this shop, and the first thing I saw in front of me was the 1916 Sporting News Babe Ruth card. I asked the owner about it and-”

“Cut to the chase already.” he interjected.

“Long story short, either he was being way too reasonable or he just didn’t know the worth of the card. We came to the agreement that I would give him five hundred in cash alongside your card.”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah?” I couldn’t tell if he was happy by this news or not, so I kept talking.

“Bottom line is that I was going to tell you when I got over to your new apartment but you were pressing me really hard about the cards and I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. I’ll try and get the card back from the guy if you’re not happy.”

“No. It’s fine. I’m still angry at the fact that you went out of your way to use my cards to trade for others, but I am glad it wasn’t some two-cent trash. So thank you, but please don’t do that ever again, like ever.”