Pocket Fiction


Published December 1, 2018 in Barbosa - 0 Comments


Barbosa was hanging on for dear life when they found him.

He’d slipped on the roof tiles and nearly fallen onto the street below.

He had nothing on him because it had fallen out of his pocket when he slipped and fell.

He couldn’t really explain what he was doing hanging off the roof at midnight in the rain.

“Just wanted to see the view from the roof, and I slipped, had a little too much to drink.”

They cuffed him and brought him down to the station.

In the interrogation room, they put a velvet bag  full of gold coins and jewelry on the table.

“Never saw that before” he said.

He had a Dutch passport that was a poor forgery. He couldn’t explain that either.

“That’s what they gave me, I don’t know what to tell you.”

No one was at home at the place he robbed. So there was nothing linking him to the crime.

They drove him to the airport.

He waved goodbye. The 20 Euros in his pocket was not going to get him far.

He waited until they left, then went outside to where everyone was smoking.

“Buonasera.”  he said,  lighting up a Lucky Strike.

MR Stuik 2018

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