Getting Your Money Back

You slide your card into the ATM machine and attempt to withdraw cash, only to find that your account is empty. Something is wrong, as just yesterday, you had $5,000 in it. Only one person you know could be responsible for this—and without hesitation, you are off to confront that person and get your money back.

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

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209 thoughts on “Getting Your Money Back

  1. LJPocket

    “Insufficient funds.”

    It takes a minute to register but once it does my blood runs ice cold and the sound of passing cars is slowly replaced by a high pitch whistle.

    How could she? It’s one thing to be a selfish flake and never pay me back, but outright stealing? I begin to think of everything I went through to get the five grand I’d deposited just the day before. My heart is now in my throat, making its presence known with every hard swallow. It’s not like she doesn’t know what I have to endure with that slime ball, we used to work him together. It’s not my fault she lets herself get so sick she can’t take calls.

    “That bitch!” I startle myself, snapping out of my disgusted trance.

    Gripping the steering wheel till my nails dig into my palms I pull my face to my fists and let out a scream. I don’t stop screaming until my throat stings and my lungs are empty. My closed eyes are lined with tears.

    I can’t help but recount every detail leading up to that $5,000. Pulling into her driveway I’m nauseous and dizzy and try to focus on the anger of being betrayed by my friend, rather than the flood of disappointment that’s taking me over. I’ve done all these things I’m not proud of and now I don’t even have anything to show for it, because of her.

    “Ana!” When banging on the door doesn’t yield fast enough results, I scoop the key out from under the mat and let myself in.

    “I can’t believe you! You’re so fucked this time.” Storming through the living room I see needles, dirty spoons, blackened foil and rolled up twenties scattered across the coffee table. My twenties. I make my way into the bedroom, “You think this is funny? I work my ass off and you reap the benefits?”

    Ana is passed out on the bed, face in her pillow, no doubt after a killer night of partying. A pang of jealousy hits me but I shake it off. “You think I don’t wanna fuck around?” I ask, not expecting an honest reply. “Hey. Ana. I’m fucking talking to you,” I say, even louder this time. Nothing. I kneel onto her bed and brush her hair off her cheek exposing glassy, empty eyes.


    All the air leaves my body at once and the ringing noise is back. Unblinking, my feet carry me to the living room where I somehow find myself on the couch. Thoughts float in and through my mind and then disappear into the ringing.

    I should call 911.

    They can’t save her.

    God, those eyes.

    What am I supposed to do now?


    I should call 911.

    I take out my phone and place it on the coffee table and in the same motion palm a lighter. Scanning the contents of the table I see just what I’m looking for. With a rolled up twenty in my mouth I hold the lighter under the foil, flicking it on. That familiar hiss cuts through the piercing ringing noise. I take the smoke into my lungs until my throat is on fire. Holding my breath I savor the taste. Flipping open my phone I exhale and, through the smoke, dial: 9 1 1.

  2. mrsblack98

    I drove away from the bank, feeling anger like I never have before. My 5000.00 dollars was gone, the bank was closed, I was a nervous wreck. That was my moving money! I ran my fingers through my hair, thinking I’m going to be on the streets, homeless, OMG and with that thought the tears began to flow. Just then I ran a red light on 63rd and Imperial. Car horns blurring at me I knew I had to pull over to compose myself. So I stopped at J&J market. I started racking my brain thinking about what could’ve happen to my money. I had no bills on automatic payments, so that wasn’t it, then it dawned on me. Harold came over tuesday night, and I left him alone in my house for about 10 mintues, but no Harold wouldn’t take from me, but he did pop-up unannounced wednesday night too. Harold and I have been friends a little over 13 years and a couple for the last 3 years, but in recents weeks the relationship has been very rocky. I need to find Harold right now, I thought to myself, feeling much calmer, I started to drive again. Harold is a city bus driver and University and College ave is one of his time points(terminal) so I headed there. Once I arrived, there was already a bus there, and I was hoping and praying that it was him, but it wasn’t, so I asked the driver if he knew Harold, and the driver said “Yeah I know Harold, he’s on vacation.” with a stunned look on my face I said “Ok thanks” and,walked off, once again fuming.Talking to my self I mumbled” see this is the shit I’m talking about, he’s on vacation and I don”t know about it, I’m going to his freaking house now”!! Driving to his house I’m pissed, because now I feel like something is totally wrong. Once I arrived on the street I noticed all the cars.’ Looks like someone is having a party”, so I had to park on the next block. I get out of my car and head toward his house, when I realized, his house is the party house. A couple dressed to the nines was walking toward me so I ask them “who’s party is this”? The man replies ” This is a wedding recept….. I didn’t let the man finish his sentence, I just started running to the house. Once inside I spotted Harold dressed in a tux, and all of my fears were coming true, as I approached I could hear him laughing telling his friend that I had payed for the reception with a 5000.00 dollar gift. How could he do this to me, I was so stunned, heartbroken and distraught.I just ran out of the house to my car, and surprisingly I didn’t even cry. I just started plotting my Revenge………

  3. drowles25

    The anger was palpable. This was no joke. Not like stealing my tip money from bartending. Not like wasting 20 dollars of my hard-earned money on 40 cans of cream salmon, the only food she knew caused me to vomit after eating as a child. And, shit, I’m not a kid anymore, though I’m probably closer to picking a fit at this moment than I have been since I was ten.


    “Watch it buddy!”

    Oops, I got in a guys way at a 2-way stop where he had the right of way.

    “Screw you!” I screamed.

    I maintained eye contact and shook my fist. His face went from tough, and intimidating, to “holy shit that guy’s not right.” Soon I was there, on my street. I began peeling off my seatbelt before my car came to a stop. Then I stepped out of my car, but I forgot to put it in gear.


    I jumped back in, hit the brakes, and slammed the door shut without locking it.

    “Bam, Bam, Bam Bam!”

    I punched the front door like I Wanted to hurt my own knuckles. The pain actually felt good.

    “Sara open the door!”

    The door flipped open. Sara opened the door with a cautious look in her eyes. Then the caution went away, and her emotions went from yellow to red.

    “What the hell is your problem?!”

    “You know exactly wha-”

    “What are you doing here!?” She yelled more than asked.

    I tried to push past her, she got in the way.

    “Where are you-you can’t come in!-

    I pushed past her, and my eyes flared around the room, as if the $5,000 would be sitting on a shelf, in a pile of twenties.

    “Get out of here!” She screamed.

    “Where the fuck is my money?”

    A moment of silence. Her wheels were turning, seemed like she was having a short, 3-second internal debate about whether or not to tell me the truth. Truth won.

    “It’s not your money,” she said, lamely.

    “What! It is too my money – it was in my fucking checking account!”

    “That was our checking account-”

    “Yeah before you started banging your office manager!”

    “That’s not fair,” she pleaded. “I love Tyrone.”

    “Give. Me. My. Money.”

    “I don’t have it.”

    “Where is it?”

    “I don’t have it.”

    “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

    “I spent it,” she said, dumbly.

    “What do you mean you spent it! On what?”

    “I bought Tyrone a motorcycle.”

    And everything went calm. From red to green, to the calm, soothing late night blinking of the yellow signals – the ones that say “Hey, it’s okay, it’s late, you’re pretty much in charge here, do whatever works for you.

    (ran out of time at this point.)
    I would have had him throw something through a window, and walk out. That would have been the end to this flash fiction story if I’d had another few minutes.

  4. camstermom

    DAMN IT. I knew I never should’ve given Barney access to my account.

    Yesterday afternoon while leaving the house, a pathetic sight came into view; Barney the Dinosaur, looking downward and dragging his prehistoric toes across my driveway. Recognizing him from far too many of his horrendous videos, I went to make a dash for my car, but he caught up with me before I could.

    “Hey Barnie,” I managed, “what can I do for you…” Barnie raised his head an a tear the size of a spilt liter bottle ran down his cheek.
    “I got kicked out of my apartment because I sing too loud and now I have nowhere to go, PLEASE help me.”
    Really? He had to be kidding. Who the hell wants to live with Barney. But he looked so…downtroaden. Against my better judgement I said he could stay, just for the night, but after that? He was on his own.

    Glee lit up his face upon my words, he hugged me, poked me in the nose and told me I wouldn’t be sorry…I already was.

    He camped out that night on the couch, after he insisted we all hold hands, sing songs, and read feel-good bedtime stories aloud.

    The next morning he said he wanted to repay me for my kindness. I told him it wasn’t necessary. He told me it was. It went back and forth until I wanted to hit him and I told him fine, whatever he wanted.
    He told me there was this one little problem, he had no money. But if he could just borrow a bit, he knew just what to do for me. I didn’t have any cash on hand. He started crying.
    I told him I’d drive him to the ATM machine and get money from my account. When we got there he was bouncing with joy and banged his stupid dino nose into my reading glasses, smashing them to dust. Since I couldn’t see to type in my password, and I REALLY wanted to rid myself of this guy, I reluctantly told him the password so he could type it in.
    In a dash to get out of there and diss this guy, I neglected to ask him for the receipt….However, he did buy me a nice, big lollipop before I dropped him at the bus station.
    Later that day, after finding my other reading glasses, I needed to make a quick trip to the ATM to get some cash for the weekend. But low and behold my account was EMPTY!!! DAMN Barnie!!!

  5. laurentravian

    Stupid ex-boyfriend. Stupid floozies with all the bling. I mean, if you’re going to sleep with my boyfriend, you might as well be naked, right? But nooo. They had to make BYRON pay for their golden eyeliner, etc. Question is, why would he tap into MY account? I screeched to a halt at a red light, and I entered Byron’s part of town. Soon, I was at his door. Oh no. He was “entertaining”. I walked into the living room. There was just one girl, and he dropped her like a hot potato when he saw me. “Melissa…” he squeaked. “Where. Is. The money, Byron Chase Gauges?” I said. His face turned pale, and the slut on the floor started giggling. I anticipated his next move. He tried to be smooth, trying to get me back. I could tell he was nervous though. He opened up when I pulled out my pistol that father left me in his will. “I used it to pay my gambling debts!” he stammered. Whatever. I’m filthy rich. I shot his couch, as a warning. I didn’t anticipate him pulling me to the floor…I woke up in a sorry state, but Byron was suave and had won me back.

  6. hillsworth

    “I saw him in here, in the middle of the night,” Betty blurted, startling her son who had been at her side, holding her hand for the last forty-five minutes, thinking she was asleep. “He was over by the dressing table, fumbling with something.”

    “Who was, mom?” Tom stood and looked down at his withering mother, dying an agonizing death in the hospice bed. Her eyes drooped once, slid open trying to focus, lost the battle and closed again. Tom also closed his and ground at them with his free hand while he rubbed his other thumb over the back of his mothers wrinkled, leathery hand.

    He hated the fact that he had to move her here from the assisted living home, but when his sister Vicky called and told him she had fallen and fractured her hip, there was no other choice.

    He slipped his hand from hers to stretch and glanced at his watch. Three hours until Vicky would be here for her shift. Quelling a yawn, he gave the monitors a quick check and spoke to the quiet room. “I’m gonna go get a cup of coffee. Be right back.” He walked over to the bureau, opened the top drawer, rummaged around for a minute, and came out with the debit card that was kept there for himself and his sisters for when they came to watch over her. There was enough money in the account to pay for meals and snacks while they waited for the inevitable.

    When he stepped into the hallway, he pulled his cell from his pocket and sent a text to his wife telling her that all was the same, no changes. He strolled to the cafeteria, got his drink, accompanied by a cinnamon roll, and pulled the card out of his shirt pocket, swiping it through the processor.

    “Sorry Tom,” Sally looked up from the register, “Insufficient funds.”

    He swiped it again. Sally shook her head and said, “Sorry.”

    Tom pulled a couple wadded up ones from his pocket and tossed them on the counter. “Keep the change.” He was thinking about what his mom had said about seeing someone in her room in the middle of the night. Maybe she had? Maybe she wasn’t as far out of it as they had all thought?

    When he approached his mothers door, he could hear someone whispering inside. “Where the hell’s it at?” Tom stepped into the doorway and caught Brian, the midnight orderly, slamming the top dresser drawer shut.

    “You looking for this, Brian?” Tom held the card up and set his snack on the night stand beside the bed.

    Fright covered Brian’s face and he made a break for the door, but Tom snagged him and slammed him to the floor, holding him until security got there. During the investigation, security found that Brian had wiped out fourteen patient accounts in the five short months he had been there. What a dirt bag, Tom thought.

  7. justdorkin

    Jack was excited to get a dog from the corner vendor. They say it was the best in town and he was hungry. He had already ordered the dog when he realized he had no cash and the dog man didn’t take card. Across the street he spied an ATM machine he ran across the street paying no head that the signal at the crosswalk told him not to walk and narrowly avoided being tagged by a mini van mom on a cell phone.

    He sticks his card in the machine and presses 2-0-0-0.


    “what the. I just made a deposit!”

    He didn’t make the deposit. He had Gene do it yesterday on his way home. Gene was a good kid always a hard worker always wanting more responsibility. He called gene. Some punk style ring-back made unintelligible sounds in his ear.

    “hey, I’m not here BEEP”

    “Gene its jack. Call me back when you get this.”

    Was it just for a score? You would think that $5000 from yesterday is not really worth it. Forget the hot dog he had to get his money back. He called his secretary to get Genes address. 1563 Front Street, that is 5 blocks away. Not the best part of town but walkable. Genes building was old. A turn of the century building that was on the verge of being gentrified. Jack buzzed up to the apartment, no answer. He called Gene again on the phone, still nothing. The door was locked and it would be creepy to start working for the fire escape. Its not like its in the movies anyway. Jack decided to buzz everyone in the building telling that he had an important package for C5. Eventually someone buzzed him in. so much for security.

    The floor in the lobby was marble in a black checker pattern. The builders of the building were proud that they had a hand in it. Jack walked up the stairs to the 3rd floor. 5Th door on the left was Gene’s. He knocked. Nothing. He could hear the sound of that same punk crap behind the door though not loud enough for Gene not to have heard him. He tried the door. It opened with a clink and he pushed the door open all the way. There he saw Gene Leaning to the side. Dried blood on his nose and what was left of $1000 of coke still on the coffee table.

    It was a shame. He thought he was a good kid. He rolled Gene over for his wallet. Found 50 bucks and with a little searching he found the deposit bag with what was left of the cash. On his way out of the apartment he stopped for a second and went back inside. Jack found a plastic baggy, scraped the coke off the table and walked out thinking he was still hungry and really craving a hot dog.

  8. elclipo

    I dialed her number as I sped down the freeway. The phone kept going straight to her voicemail so I kept redialing. I am sure I left many angry drivers in my wake as I merged across three lanes of traffic just so I would make it to my exit. A few minutes later I was in her driveway. I went to the porch and noticed a note pinned to the door. At the track.

    “She didn’t,” I thought as I went back to my car.

    When I got to the track I went straight for her favorite spot. Section C, seat 17. There she was, biting her nails as the gates opened letting the horses loose on their short journey. I startled her when I sat down next to her but she managed a smile.

    “How much?” I asked her.

    “All of it.” She replied confidently. “Look, she’s already ahead of the pack!” She was giggling with excitement as her pick was ahead of the rest of the pack by a significant margin.

    Although I knew very little about horse racing I did understand the odds. The favorite didn’t pay very well and the underdog paid tons of money if it miraculously won a race. My five thousand dollars were now a small stub worth either one hundred thousand dollars or -most likely- absolutely nothing.

    My anxiety grew as I noticed a second horse inching its way closer to the leader. By the last stretch they were neck to neck, the jockeys exchanging mean dirty looks, the horses doing their best, feeding off of each other, together leaving the rest of the pack behind. The tension thickened in the stands. The usual chatter became a roar. By now, my beautiful thief was standing next to me unable to contain her excitement. As if prompted by her, everyone in attendance got out of their seats.

    I covered my eyes and almost instantly the crowd cheered. The race was over. The voice in the loudspeaker said it was one of the closest races he had ever seen and the official winner would be determined shortly by the photo taken at the finish. When the picture appeared on the TV screens it was evident that my horse won the race.

    I picked up my girlfriend by the waist in happiness only to notice she was not smiling. When I put her down she pulled a five thousand dollar check from her pocket and handed it to me.

    “What’s this?” I asked.

    “I never made the bet,” she said. “I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want to disappoint you again.”

  9. JADC

    Ah, the last thing on my list, stop at the bank for some extra cash. After slipping my card through the slot and punching in my code, I tried to pull money from my savings account. Insufficient Funds? What the . . .? OMG, where the hell did all my cash go? You know, it’s always something with this damn bank.

    Fuming all the way home, finally get in the house, call the bank and start ranting to the bank rep, stating I KNOW I had $5000 in my account just yesterday; “what the hell did y’all do with it between then and now?”

    Just then my daughter slips quietly into the room, wondering what all the commotion is about; as she sinks into the couch, she’s trying to get my attention. “Carly, can’t you see I’m on the phone?” “Yes, but . . . ” Geez, she’s 16, but right now she’s acting like a 2-year-old who hasn’t the manners enough to know that when Mommy is on the phone, she needs to be quiet. I finally raise my finger asking her to give me just one more moment and I’ll be off the phone. Again she interrupts, “But Mom . . . it’s important!” “Carly, I’m certain it is, but right now I’m trying to figure out just what the hell the bank did with my money.” “Well, I can tell you.” “What? What do you mean YOU can tell me?”

    At that moment, I realize it probably wasn’t the bank’s fault at all; I quickly apologized to the woman I’d been screaming at for the past five minutes, then hung up.

    “Okay, let’s have it woman, and this better be good!” “Well, you know how you’re always helping out the kids you think you can save from being bad?” “Yes, go on . . . ” “Well, my friend got in trouble and needed cash quick, so I took your card & took the money out of your account and gave it to Suzanne.” “Are you crazy? Everyone knows damn well Suzanne is a druggie; she’s probably out buying whatever right now.” “Mom, it’s not like that; she really got into trouble this time and really needed the money.” “Yeah sure, just like all the other times Suzanne got in trouble; trouble is her middle name Carly.” “Mommmmm!” “Okay, okay, you and I need to chill; want some hot cocoa?” Carly giggles and says, “Yeah, sure.”

    Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping our hot cocoa, I finally asked, “Have you ever seen me hand any one of your friends money?” “No, you just help them in other ways and when they do good you reward them.” “Right . . . . Giving them money isn’t the answer; helping them in other ways, like with their homework or just letting them hang out here in our family environment and talking to them about getting good grades, asking them what they’re going to do with the rest of their lives, getting them to think about the future, those are the ways I help those kids, but I would never just hand any of them money. So, what are we going to do for the next month without any food, or lights, or heat, or gas in the car?” “Mom? Why are you asking these stupid questions?” “Well, they’re not really stupid Carly because you gave away the money we needed for all those things I just mentioned, not to mention the fact we can’t pay the mortgage this month either.” “Oh. Guess I really screwed up, huh?” “I’d say so. Did you learn anything?”

    JADC 02-27-12

  10. funoodle


    Google looked at me with his round, yellow eyes, pupils thin as almond slices.

    “Google, I need your help, bud. I need you to show me where that money’s at. I need you please help me. Can you show me where the money is, baby?”


    He yawned and started cleaning himself, bored with my begging. This little Siamese cat was my only lead. Five thousand dollars! How could those backward bozos from the credit union not have at least called me to confirm such a big transaction?! Instead, I found out early this morning at the Walgreen’s ATM when the receipt said I had a ledger balance of fifty-five cents.

    “Ma’am, we’ll take care of this, just calm down. Let’s start by-“

    “Let’s not start! I want to know which of y’all authorized this! Do you always just hand out five grand in cash to people without checking their ID, or is that just on certain days?”

    “Ma’am, let me start by saying I personally assisted Ms. Nelson this morning. I also checked her picture ID and confirmed the account. Everything checked out. ”

    My mouth was as wide open as a small child’s at their first Fourth of July. I had to force out the words:

    “But I’m Miss Nelson. That crazy chick you gave the money to, her name is Danielle Martinez and she is crazy. I mean she’s a criminal. I’m not sure if it was the drugs or the Marines that messed her up, but that ID is fake and that money is mine.”

    Danielle wiped out my account. It wasn’t surprising, now that I was seeing the bigger picture. The walls of our townhouse were thin, and at night I could hear snippets of conversations with friends, flings, and accomplices. Or, perhaps they were all the same person?

    “…Big easy money man, I’m talking six digits this time…”

    “…Mamacita never saw it coming…”

    “…Already got two out on me, I don’t need no third!”

    I didn’t think much of it until I got home last night to find my address book slightly dog eared under the “ABC” cluster, where “Credit Union” was listed along with my account info. This morning, her room was empty except for her bare twin mattress.

    I hung up and started walking back home. Before anything official happened, I needed to breathe.

    Halfway back, I heard a familiar sound coming from the bushes next to abandoned trailer. Google?
    He had a tri-folded hundred-dollar bill underneath his collar along with a small scribbled note: “Feed Me.”


    I stared at him for a few minutes, asking him all those questions, and finally snatched him up and held him close to me.

    Money comes, money goes, money comes back. But I’m yours now. For the rest of my little life.

    “What?” I looked down at him, incredulous. “Did you just…Say something?” He looked up, locked his eyes into mine, and looked back down at the squirrel he was tracking.


  11. WT Houdashell

    That bitch. I should’ve known. The ATM beeps condescendingly as it spits out my card like a bite of rotten fruit, denying me my $20. I am certain the woman in line behind me saw “insufficient funds” on the screen because she’s got a smirk on her face that, I swear to God, must be the same one that Amy is wearing right now, knowing that today’s the day I’ll find out just what she’s made of. I bet the savings is empty, too. I wonder if the cashier will cut up my visa into little pieces like they do on TV if I try to use it for a coffee, because if the bank accounts are empty, I bet my Visa’s over the limit. She’s got balls, that’s for sure.

    Five years and five months ago we promised til death do us part, through good and bad, blah, blah, blah. Five days ago I said I’m done, and five minutes ago I got screwed. Five thousand dollars worth of screwing, actually. Expensive morning. My lawyer was in Hawaii on Friday, yesterday was a holiday—the papers don’t even exist yet and the storm clouds are gathering. Jesus, I should have seen this coming. We used to joke about how she’d kill me—cut me up into little pieces and make me disappear if I ever tried to leave her. Funny thing to joke about.

    I recognize the pale, worried look on the face of the man next to me at the crosswalk, and he’s fingering his BlackBerry in a fury. His lawyer must be out of town too. I wonder how much was in his bank account yesterday. He’s got a Louis Vuitton briefcase in his other hand, so his storm clouds are a lot darker than mine.

    I see another empty looking pale face on the other side of the crosswalk holding his Starbucks like it might be his last as I head left up Baker Street to our, her house. I want to see what five thousand worth of revenge looks like. Wait, my Visa too, thirty five thousand dollars of revenge.

    The house looks taller, somehow sinister, like its taken her side and is staring me down as slowly take the steps up to the front door that has, curiously, been painted black. Something tells me the key in my hand isn’t going to work on the shiny new brass dead bolt there above the door knob, so I ring the doorbell which sends a deafening doomsday chorus of bells echoing down the foyer on the other side. Half a breath later the door swings open noiselessly and there she is in a coat of what must be hides of baby polar bears, her right hand hanging heavily by her side, weighed down by the new, alarmingly large stone resting on her ring finger. Savings too . . . forty five thousand dollars.

    “You look good in revenge,” I say.

    “Dressed for the occasion,” she says.

  12. Jeannie Wraight

    Marci sat at her desk at Leman Papers staring at her boss’s newest project. Mr. Leman sat on the Board of Directors of Horizon House, a local rehab for female addicts. Marci‘s gaze was fixed on the thin blonde girl, a recent graduate of the program hired to provide her ‘a second chance in society’.

    Marci dialed the balance inquiry number on her ATM card only to be got cut off once again.
    “No luck yet?” Laurie, her best friend inquired from the cubicle nextdoor.
    “Line’s still out. If there’s a dime missing, that freaking drug addict will regret it the rest of her life. People like that shouldn’t be allowed around decent, hard working people like us”.
    “Unbelievable! And she handed your purse back like nothing happened?” asked Laurie shaking her head.
    “Yup, said it must of fallen in the trash in the bathroom. She just happened to see the corner of it under a bunch of used paper towels”
    “Looser” Laurie sang, catching the girl’s eye as she nervously looked away.
    The two friends laughed.
    “Don’t worry” Laurie said. “If there’s money missing, her life will be hell. I’ll make sure of it”.
    Marci knew she would. The two had been best friends since Marci’s first day on the job.

    Later that afternoon Marci left to check the balance at the ATM in the lobby. She felt the rage over take her when the receipt read 42 cents. It’s not that she’d miss the five thousand dollars that was taken. Marci’s father would have the missing funds back in her account by morning. Marci only worked because he insisted she learn the business from the ground up before she inherited the company upon his retirement.
    She stormed into the office and over to the thief. Grabbing her by the shirt she yelled “Damn thieving junkie, you’re through. I’ll make sure you’re never hired anywhere again”. Marci dragged the girl up to her father’s office where she was immediately fired. The girl never said a word.

    A week later Marci received a call from the bank asking her to come in. Upon arriving Marci was shown a surveillance tape. The women’s face was hidden but the camera caught her right hand. “Oh, my God” Marci cried.

    She raced to Horizon House and then to the office. Back in her cubicle she began to cry.
    “What’s up” Laurie asked, taking her friends hand in hers. Marci stared down at the sapphire ring she had given her friend, the same ring seen on the surveillance tape.
    “Why’d you do it?” she asked devastated by her friend’s betrayal.
    A smile crossed Laurie’s lips as she said “It’s not like you’d miss it”
    As security arrived to escort Laurie out Marci cried “That poor girl was probated to Horizon House. Her staying out of jail was contingent on this job. She was arrested and sent back after she was fired. She hung herself in her cell”.
    Her best friend shrugged and said “You can’t reform someone like that anyway. Like you said, she shouldn’t be around decent people like us”

    1. annefreemanimages

      Rob, you made me laugh out loud. This prompt got me thinking about her grandparents – who are they? And, where did Rett’s given name – Loretta – come from? It’s certainly not a common mid-Atlantic States name (where Rett lives). So, I knew at least one of her grandmother’s had to be Southern. I also figured that her strong personality had to come from someone in her farmily. It just took off from there. I’ll look forward to fleshing out this story idea. Thanks for reading!



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