Dark Black
The anxiety hit slowly and all at once as she awoke. The figments of yesterday’s memories lethargically discoursing and recharging as she blinked the sleep away. Back to the dilemma of the ominous sum of money dubiously transferred into her account. She had hopscotched back and forth on the quandary of spending or reporting it then decided to sleep on it. Sleep, although not well, she did. Now what? She reached for her phone, limbs half asleep she accidentally tipped her father’s framed painting over. A failed attempt then another to grab her phone to once again check her accounts. Still there – abstract numbers of black and white – twenty thousand pounds. Zara sighed into the silence absently staring for a while.
