Pocket Money – 100-word fiction

The hangover was killing. He couldn’t imagine it would ever be over. He needed to join a gym, eat more healthily and never get too drunk again. These were the consequences: his actions, his fault. What he needed now though was a packet of crisps and a can of coke. The checkout girl was yawning and it made him yawn too. He needed to get out of the shop, there was no air in there. The woman in front was taking an age. He put his hand in his jeans pocket and felt for the last tenner. It wasn’t there.

Published by MW Bewick

Writer of poetry and place; editor and journalist. Co-founder of Dunlin Press. Books including Pomes Flixus, The Orphaned Spaces and Scarecrow are available from http://dunlinpress.bigcartel.com

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