photo prompt ©C.E.Ayr
Going south from Chicago, I boarded and took a seat facing a woman wearing diamond earrings. My fingers tingled, but I was done with that; he couldn’t make me.
“Coffee.” I gestured toward the server with a stolen credit card.
Spectacled, the woman sat prim-lipped. I smiled politely. Icy as the jewels at her ears, she creased her lip, and her eyes flicked past my blackened eye as if I’d offended her.
Piss on that.
I was never going back, but suddenly freelancing didn’t look too bad, and it shouldn’t be hard to find a fence in Kansas City.
Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories