When we ordered our morning coffee, my beloved started ferreting through her handbag. “My mobile phone’s missing,” she turned pale. “I must return home!” Her foot hurting, I got up from our table and dashed home without a word. It was but two blocks away. The apartment door still open behind me, I looked everywhere. There was no sign of the phone. To speed things up, I called my beloved from my mobile phone. I could hear no ringing, though. I could hear no vibrations, either. And then I heard her voice: “Sorry about this…” It was in her handbag all the time. By the time I returned to the café, my coffee was already cold. And so was hers, for she would not touch it before my return. But I did not feel annoyed by my beloved’s little blunder. Not a bit. Her handbag is on the ample side, anyhow. The only thing that crossed my mind was what to do the next time her mobile phone goes missing. I should call her at once, of course.