Another story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
They were just kids. They arrived right on closing time wanting coffees, extra hot, and Gina opened the till for their money.
Darlene waited, wishing they’d leave, worried about her own kids left alone while she worked nights.
Suddenly Gina screamed and clutched her face, dripping coffee, and they clambered over the counter, grabbed fistfuls of cash and ran. Darlene froze, then snapped into action—cold water for the scald; call the police. Then she spotted the open till, the stacks of notes they’d missed.
Nobody would blame her. Nobody would know. For once her rent would be paid on time.