Where's my money?

It took him a couple of moments to realise he wasn’t alone. Even then Steve’s reaction was slow. A fist sent him back onto the sofa.

‘You had the whole world to hide in and you chose Donegal!’

Steve made it halfway across the room before his legs were kicked from under him.

‘Where’s my money, you little prick?’

He scuttled backwards until he hit the wall.

‘Fifty thousand euros. I trusted you to collect and deliver, Stevie. Instead you collected and ran.’

‘I, I …’

‘Fifty thousand, plus interest, plus broken bones. That’s the deal. Now, where’s my money?’




A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.