She patted her pockets. “I left my phone at home.”
“But the passport…” Mark stammered. “It was in the cookbook.”
The older man at the table cleared his throat. He held up a blue booklet. “You mean this?”
“Dad, stop it,” Sarah sighed.
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She turned to Mark. “This is my father. He’s been in town for an hour. He has a key to the apartment—he stopped by to surprise us, saw you hide the passport, thought you were being a jerk, and took it to teach you a lesson.”
Mark slumped against the wall, the adrenaline fading.
“I just came here to say goodbye to him before we left,” Sarah said, crossing her arms. “But since you like pranks so much, maybe you can explain to my dad why you were hiding my documents?”
Mark looked at Sarah’s dad, who was shuffling the deck of cards with a grim smile. It was going to be a very long flight.
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