Stacey’s suitcase nestled securely between her legs. A thin film sat on top of her coffee. She gnawed at her fingernails, turning her head every time the door signalled another customer walking in. Checking her watch again, Stacey shuffled in her seat and doubt stole her confidence.
“Hey.” Michael sat, grabbing Stacey’s coffee. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re having second thoughts. You can’t, not now. Please don’t.”
“I have to.”
“Go back? If you go back now, it’ll be the end. You’ve done the hard part.”
“How can I move forward when I feel so guilty?”
“Because your life will be over if you go back. Is that what you want?”
“No.” She lowered her eyes.
He took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “We should go.”
Stacey picked up the suitcase and followed Michael to the car. A police siren caused her to freeze momentarily then she hustled into the passenger seat, the suitcase clutched in her lap.
“By the time the police are arresting your husband for fraud, we’ll be sunning ourselves on a beach with the money and no money trail other than to your husband. It’s perfect.”
It was perfect. Apart from the guilt spreading its roots within Stacey every time money was spent.
Written for http://www.siobhanmuir.com/siobhans-blog/thursthreads-tying-tales-together-week-206?platform=hootsuite
Oooh, nicely done, Lizzie!
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