The makings of a thief

Trying a bit of flash fiction..200 words.

Money was missing, he knew it must be her; he’d been watching.

He said it would be her last shift but she could still have her grated cheese baguette at break time. Looking back she wondered why he hadn't walked her straight out of the pub if he really thought she had stolen the money. She realised she’d been the scapegoat. But what it gave her was the idea. If he thought her capable of such an act, why not just do it.

      She slotted the tarnished gold coins into the side of her ribbed graying sports socks giving her ankle a little shake chink chink chink making the coins fall under her foot where they nestled into her high instep. They’d stay there uncomfortably for the rest of her shift.

         Outside her senses were sharp, intense. A startled pigeon flew up in front of her, flap flapping his wings as if in slow motion. Faces seemed to stare at her.

           ‘Eeeevniiin tiimes,’ she heard as if from a loud-hailer.

Resting a hand on some wrought iron railings, she pretended to scratch inside her trainer as her fingers searched for the warm coins.

Soon she would be ripping inky tags.