Cookie – Friday Fictioneers

Cookie was an inmate in the prison where I worked. He told tales that passed for truth–for the naive and uninitiated, like me.  He said one day (on the outside) he’d been in an alley atop a ladder painting near the roof when his wallet fell out of his pocket.  A rotten thief picked it up and ran with it before Cookie could climb down.  Cookie escaped prison and after being caught said  he had  almost  phoned me. I said of course I”d have had to turn him in. He said oh, not knowing I’d have waited  a day.    (100 words)


(Being a newbie, I went out to lunch just before trying to post this. Seems I missed the deadline.)

About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
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