The Fleming Merchant's Association

Honesty

Photo by Sean Foster on Unsplash

The cement planters in the business district turned into stools. 

There were little metal signs- Please Don’t Sit On The Planters-Fleming Merchant’s Assoc-

But they were the perfect height for sitting, so you couldn’t really blame anybody for doing it.

They were also a great place to find change, vapes, cigarettes.

People would leave their leftovers too.Burnt ends, sometimes, a fat hunk of cheesecake once.

Nick Fletcher tried to be discreet, because he still hoped to pick up a job somewhere in Fleming.

Guy out at Wanderland Drive-In was gonna hire him at the concession stand on the spot, but Nick was between cars and the thought of making popcorn for a living kind of bummed him out.

He didn’t like popcorn. The little kernel skin stuck in his teeth, and the thought of sixteen year old coworkers driving past him as he walked three miles home down Van Krettel Parkway stuck in his ass.

He told the guy he’d get back to him.

Now he was eyeing a three quarter full smoke sitting next to one of the little trees in the planters.

Stark white with some red against the dirt.

It had lipstick on it, so it didn’t belong to the guy sitting there.

Nick got out his phone. It wasn’t charged, he lost his charger, but he pretended to text someone while he waited for the guy to leave, so he could grab the smoke.

Nick was four letters into his fake text when the guy got up.

And when the guy got up, his wallet tumbled into the dirt of the planter.

The guy didn’t notice.

Nick wandered over.