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Weekly Contest #353
Chunk was popping off in my ear about the rain, his voice heavy like he just ran a block. I paid him no mind. My shades were on, and I was working. I glanced around. Nobody in aisle forty-two of the local Food-Mart. Time to act. I slid my backpack off my shoulder, ripped it open, and reached for a Lunch-Pak on the shelf. Chicken or pork? “Oink, oink, B.” Chunk’s voice rang through my earbud—other problems. The security guard was standing to my right, apparently shocked to have caught a sixteen-year-old girl in the act of stealing. “Chicken o...
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