April 2, 2012
Flash Fiction
The Twenty
The twenty had been left unattended.
Why shouldn’t he take it? If
someone was going to be so careless as to leave it lying around, they mustn’t
want it that badly anyways. He snatched
it up off the table while the two women continued on, cackling together about
weather and the poor turn out to the gala at the town hall. His stomach rumbled once more. Stuffing the bill in his pocket, he casually
turned and continued on letting his nose do the guiding. The bakery wasn’t far away or maybe a sandwich,
yes, a big ham sandwich. The deli was
just across the street. His mouth
watered at the thought, as he stepped off the curb.
She had seen him many times before, the kid looked homeless. As filthy as his clothes were, he smelt
homeless too. It wasn’t a surprise that
her money had disappeared from the table.
As she looked up, she saw the waif heading out the door. At first she was angry, but she watched him
go instead of chasing him. With her
two-inch heels, she’d never catch him anyways.
He had better use it for something he needed. Not drugs, those kids now days and their
drugs.
Another second later Marg caught her breath, her hand to her
mouth. The boy hadn’t seen the bus
coming.
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