Caryn Oles

A Forgotten Blessing

Slamming the phone receiver back onto the base, Aimee growled in frustration. Fortunately for her, the office was currently empty and Aimee didn’t have to explain herself to anyone’s questioning glance. Her poor debit card stared up at her from the desk, the numbers faded as the glossy silver ink had long worn away from frequent use. Aimee knew the number by heart, of course, but when she had to give the number to someone over the phone for a payment, it always felt more comfortable with the card in her view - just in case a fluke of dyslexia or a memory lapse somehow made her give the wrong digits.