Gone

You know it’s futile to trust him. He said he’s out of petrol, he needs a bit of money – he even assured you that he’d pay you back tomorrow…but just look at him. His eyes are twitching, a pair of pale deep wells just waiting to engulf you – and his clothing, well, rags more like, hardly give off the reassuring vibe you’d expect from any half-decent bloke around here.

You try to decline as politely as you can, turning around in a hurry, and end up running down the street, heels click-clacking noisily on the cobbled pavement. You turn a corner, and – suddenly the world is spinning; there’s a shooting pain travelling up from your elbow as you crash onto the ground. Never run in high heels, you scold yourself.

You look around. A kindly gentleman is kneeling down next to you, asking if you’re alright – you nod in agreement, accepting his assistance as you get up and steady yourself. A few seconds later, you’re on your way again, trying to forget about the little accident you just had. You slip your hand into your bag to check if your phone screen is still intact – thank the lucky stars, it still is…but where’s the purse gone?

You panic, rushing back the way you came – only to find the street completely deserted. It’s gone for good.

~ Jordan Strobach-Morris, 21.11.2015

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