"Joe?" You shout from the bedroom. "Yeah babe?" "Where's my passport?" You had been looking for the book for the last half hour with absolutely no luck. "Is it not with mine?" He inquires after having walked up the stairs to join you. "No," you whine, opening the safe to only reveal his. "Shoot," he says under his breath, his hand running through the back of his hair. "What?" You question, of his actions. He sighs and runs his hands down his face before replying. "I took yours out a few weeks ago so it could get scanned with the rest of ours before America, and I could have sworn I put it back." He looks at you with worried eyes. The two of you had been planning this trip to Aruba over his break before the tour had even started, and this news was the last thing you needed seeing as your plane was set to leave in only a few hours. Your eyes close at his revelation as you try to calmly think of a response for him. "I'm sorry," he says, noticing the inner struggle you are having to not shout at him. You nod slowly as you fully comprehend all he has told you and you turn to shut the door to the safe. "Right," you begin, your voice soft as to not let too many emotions escape. "I will just keep looking, it couldn't have gotten very far. I mean I'm not sure why you didn't just put it back with yours, but I'll just keep looking." The annoyance of the situation shows in your tone and Joe hangs his head in defeat. "I'm really..." "Don't," you stop him, apologizing isn't going to find anything. "I'll help you," he quickly offers after your interruption. "No, I'll do it myself." Of course this would happen to you and of course it would be right before you were due to leave on the most needed vacation. The two of you really needed this time together, but if you couldn't come up with your passport that was not going to happen. After Joe leaves the room defeated by his actions and your words, you continue to search. Joe had been all over the place. You search under the bed for what feels like the tenth time, nothing. It isn't on top of the dresser where he leaves his keys. There's nothing on the bookshelf, and after pulling out every other important document in the safe one last time, you sit in the floor surrounded by the bedroom you just tore to pieces. Your head falls in your hands, this is not happening. "The jeans!" You shout after many more moments of thinking about possible locations for your passport. You get up from your place in the floor and go over to the chair that holds his two pairs of jeans, his only two pairs of jeans. You pick up the first pair, stuffing your hands into each pocket, nothing. You grab the second pair, the infamous ripped ones, and begin to pick the pockets. Your heart rests as your fingers find the leather bound cover of your newly found passport. You keep hold of the jeans and walk downstairs to find Joe. Your smile goes away once you find him sitting on the couch, his head buried between his knees as he leans over. You sit the jeans and passport down on the back of the couch and walk around to sit beside him. "Hey," you say softly, pulling him up from between his knees. He looks at you with his blue, somber eyes. "Hey, guess what," you begin, your voice just as soft as before. He turns to you for an answer. "I found it," you continue, a smile spreading on your face. Relief consumes his eyes as his head falls onto your shoulder. "Where was it?" He asks, his voice muffled by your shirt. "In your dang jeans. You've apparently been carrying it around with you." He looks up at you with a smile. "Here," you say, pulling the jeans off of the back of the couch. "Get dressed. We're going to miss our flight."
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