Apple Pay

I was sitting at the kitchen table this morning, reading the newspaper, drinking coffee, and minding my own business. Suddenly my wife exclaimed, “Shit. You need to run to the grocery store. I need some fresh organic cranberries, a shallot, four pounds of Brussel sprouts, some fresh thyme, an organic orange, and unsalted butter.” Seems she had decided, at the last minute, to bring a side dish with us to the Thanksgiving dinner at my son’s home.

I wasn’t dressed, so I quickly slipped into a pair of jeans, put on my sneakers, grabbed my car keys, and drove to Safeway. I dutifully filled my cart with all the items on the list my wife gave me. I wheeled my cart to the checkout aisle and loaded my groceries onto the short conveyor belt as the cashier scanned each item.

When I reached for my wallet in my jean’s pocket, the cold, hard realization hit me that I had forgotten to bring it with me. I looked plaintively at the cashier. “I seem to have left my wallet at home,” I said.

She looked at me, saw my iPhone in my cart, and said “Give me your iPhone.” I shrugged and handed it to her. She looked at it for a second, handed it back to me and instructed me to tap on the icon on my screen that read Wallet.

I did as she instructed and this popped up on the screen:

Then she said, “Hold your phone up to the scanning device.” I did and in an instant, the word “Approved” showed up on the scanner’s screen.

“Cool!” I said.

“Here’s your receipt,” she said, handed me the paper that popped out of the register. “You’re good to go. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” I said.

When I got home, I said to my wife, “Guess what I learned how to do at the grocery store.”

FFfPP — The Prime Suspect

A14E3A18-B676-42F5-8C5A-05DC804C34DA“Her wallet, her phone, her glasses,” Anna said. “She would never leave her apartment without those things. I’m calling 9-1-1.”

“Wait,” Dean said. “Perhaps something came up suddenly and she left in a hurry. We should give her some time. She’ll probably show up.”

“Where’s her cat?” Anna asked.

“Maybe the cat got out and she ran chasing after it. That would explained why she left all of her stuff behind,” Dean said.

Anna heard a sound coming from the bathroom, opened the door and an angry cat came running out. “Any other theories,” she asked Dean. “I’m calling the police.”

Dean grabbed Anna’s arm. “No you’re not,” he said.

“Let go of me,” Anna screamed. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. She’s your girlfriend, Dean. Aren’t you concerned?”

“Of course I’m worried,” Dean said, “but I’m the boyfriend and I was the last to see her alive. That makes me the prime suspect.”

“The last to see her alive?” Anna said, a look of horror on her face. “Dean, what did you do?”

Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner from Roger Shipp. Photo credit: