Welcome back to Sweet Saturday Samples. Although the blog hop started up again last week after a hiatus for the holidays, I was not able to participate. Now I'm back.
I hope you enjoy this sample from one of my short stories, Losers Weepers, bundled with another story in Thumps and Losers. (scroll to the bottom for vendor links)
“Mom,” cried ten-year-old Bobby Brown as he rushed in the door from school. “Guess what I found on the street! It’s a wallet, Mom, and there’s a lot of money in it.”
Thelma Brown put down the iron and brushed back the hair from her forehead with the back of her hand. She looked on as Bobby opened the wallet and spread out the cash on the worn kitchen table. “Money, huh? Where’d you find all this money?”
“Down on 5th Street. The wallet was just sitting there in the gutter.”
“Somebody lost it, son. Is there a name inside?”
“No. I looked for that first off.”
“You’d best take it to the police station.”
“Mom! It’ll go to waste, sitting there in the sergeant’s desk.”
“Did you lose this wallet? Did I? It don’t belong to us, son. The police can find the owner.”
“Ah, Mom!” Bobby hit the table leg with the side of his shoe. “That’s not fair. We can buy stuff with the money. Maybe get Pa well.”
“How do we do that?” Thelma’s voice raised a fraction. “No. That money ain’t ours. The owner’s probably worried sick right now. Maybe it’s somebody’s rent money, or cash that’s been saved for a rainy day.”
Bobby sighed. He’d heard of a “rainy day” all his life, but had never seen his mother spend money just because the clouds gathered. “I guess I can take it down to the sergeant.”
“That’s a good boy, son. Go wash your face and spiff up a bit before you leave. And take your books to your room. They don’t belong on the kitchen table.”
Bobby’s steps dragged as he left the room. He washed up, then got the wallet from the kitchen table and stuffed the cash back inside. His mother stopped ironing long enough to give him a quick hug and some quiet words of encouragement.
“Supper will be ready when you get back, son,” she said, returning to the ironing board. “Mrs. Landis will pick up her shirts about six, so get along with you so I can finish up.”
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