Christmas Eve
Jake keys his PIN into the machine. The machine flashes ‘transaction approved’, and he lets out a breath. It could have gone either way. He tucks the brown paper bag under his arm. The chick behind the counter, Eloise—he remembers her name—smiles at him and says, ‘Merry Christmas,’ with what seems like genuine Christmas cheer.
‘You too,’ Jake says, but her words scrape at the hollow pit inside him.
He stashes the bottle of rum safely on the passenger seat of his car. He takes a spearmint leaf lolly from the white paper bag on the dash. There’s only three left. He crumples the bag closed and puts it in his pocket.
There seems to be more cops than usual around town. Because of Christmas maybe, or something else going on. Maybe because of him. He knows that’s not likely, but
