Fiction XXVII

“Where’s my new year gift? ” she pouts.

“In the shop.” he replies, sober faced.

“Really? You ordered something for me? Which shop?”

“No. You go pick up something for yourself. Anything you want.”

“And?” she asks.

“Get me the bill.”

“You mean I can buy anything I want to, and you’ll pay for it?”

“Hmm.”

That means all I have to do is go pick up that diamond necklace and give you the bill?”

“You will never know until you try!”

“Forget it – for all you know I’ll be cleaning out my bank account and you’ll never pay!”

“And I thought you wanted a gift!” he laughs.

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