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Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-Auld_Lang_Syne-by_Stephen_G_Eoannou.docx

The place was a dump, hardly any furniture in there. The heat didn’t even feel like it was working. Her mailbox was just an open slit sawed in the door. The snow was blowing in.” “You read about this in the newspaper sometimes. Rich people living like paupers and they have thousands stashed away in coffee cans or hidden in coat pockets.” Val chewed the end of the pen. “But I think it belongs to the guy on Chapin Parkway. It had to be him.” “What does it matter, Val?” Griff asked. He heard the edge when he spoke her name. Val stared at him, her eyes tracking back and forth, studying him. “It’s not our money, Griff. It doesn’t belong to us. And what if the guy on Chapin comes looking for it? Then what?” “He won’t. He may call the cab company and ask if anyone turned it in, but come here?” Griff shook his head. “It’s not right, Griff. You need to turn this in.” “This money is a gift, Val. An early Christmas present for us. We can pay off bills or get a new car. Or maybe go on a real honeymoon. No one knows we have it. It’s free money.” Val shook her head; a wisp of her pinned-back hair fell free and she tucked it behind her ear. “Nothing’s free. You have to turn it in tonight. I don’t want this money in the apartment, Griff. I don’t feel good about it.”


Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-Auld_Lang_Syne-by_Stephen_G_Eoannou.docx
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