“Get ready, Sundance,” Butch said. “The train’s approaching.”
Sundance put down his binoculars and said, “I see it, but it’s just a bunch of freight cars filled with coal. You said the mining company’s payroll would be on that train.”
“They probably have it in a safe in the caboose,” Butch said.
Sundance picked up his binoculars. “I don’t see a caboose on that train.”
“Gotta be,” Butch said. “All trains have cabooses.”
“Maybe in the States,” Sundance said, “But we’re in goddam Bolivia.”
“Okay, mount up,” Butch said. “There’s a small bank in town we can hit this afternoon.”
(100 words)
Written for this weeks Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Jennifer Pendergast
Jessica unwrapped the gift from her husband. “What’s this?” she asked.
“She was an excellent artist,” Arianna said, as she sorted through her deceased lover’s art supplies.
“Dammit, Leo, I keep telling you that we need to remodel this kitchen,” Sylvia said. “The sink is too small, there’s not enough counter space, and the cabinets are falling apart. I’ve had it and I’m not going to put up with this sore excuse for a kitchen.”
When asked why he did it, Raymond Mason, a long time resident of the community, explained that the neighborhood was going through some tough times. “A lot of folks here have lost their jobs due to the pandemic. They’re having a difficult time making ends meet. So every morning, just as the sun comes up, I put a carton of hardboiled eggs on my window sill and invite people to take what they need. It’s the least I can do.”