He backhanded the sweat off his forehead, wished he'd worn something other than fleece to hide the manila envelope. A timer buzzed. The barista rolled her eyes at the woman texting. A man at the table next to him laughed, leaned across the table to wipe the whipped cream mustache off his girlfriend.
A bald man wearing a long leather coat slipped into the chair across from
Taylor, laid a briefcase on the table. Taylor didn't know his
name—he'd only called him "the guy." During their two brief phone
calls, they'd only discussed the transaction: one hundred thousand dollars, do
the exchange, the end. In Taylor's
case, maybe not the end. If this worked, the money wouldn't matter.
The briefcase looked unremarkable: faded black leather, worn handle, chrome flaking off the clasps. "Is it inside?"
The guy snorted. "You could say that. Got the cash?"
The guy looked expectantly, said nothing.
pulled the manila envelope out, passed it across the table. "Will it
The guy peeked inside the envelope, then slipped it inside his coat. "If you don't believe me, go ahead. Open it."
The guy got up.
Taylor lifted the lid.
"Good luck t—"
Light glowed from the interior. Silence descended.
looked up. The guy's coat flared behind him, frozen in place. Behind the
counter, baristas stood still as statues. The man at the next table seemed
transfixed by the sight of his girlfriend, who in turn seemed mesmerized by her
Iphone's blank screen. Taylor
turned. Every patron was frozen in place. Everyone, except Taylor.
He checked his own cell phone, watched it, counted to sixty. It worked!
Time had stopped.
"—to you." The coat tails fell against the back of the guy's legs. He left the coffee shop.
A chime announced each floor.
waited for the fourth chime, got out on the oncology wing, went straight to
Lizzie's eyes were closed, the IV bag dripped into her bruised, thin arms. Dr. Patel put away his pen light, greeted
"How is she?"
Dr. Patel shook his head. "It won't be long now." His expression filled with sympathy. He cleared his throat. "I suggest you say your goodbyes."
"You're here," she whispered.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
My son's newest project for his video editing class is to create a story, then shoot and edit it into a 2 minute film. The prompt is a briefcase. Him and I brainstormed, and this is the story.
I hope his classmates like it enough to film it. That would be a hoot for me. For now, enjoy it as a #fridayflash