* * * * * DO WHAT YOU LOVE * * * * *
Bob forgot his wife's birthday. He stumbled out of Lenny's Pub in a drunken panic, wondering what might still be open at half past eleven.
He spied a box-like contraption on a distant corner. He'd never had a reason to pay any mind to it before. Being quite blind without his glasses, which he had lost in a hand of poker earlier in the evening, he took a chance and pulled out a handful of change. He fed every coin into the slot and heard a loud thud emanating from a hatch somewhere on the side of the box.
He eased around the corner and grasped a rusty handle, gingerly lifting the door. An endless stream of potatoes poured out onto the sidewalk.
Bob stuffed one potato in his coat pocket, shook his head and shuffled back toward Lenny's. He needed a drink to clear his head.
A potato wouldn't be the worst gift he gotten for Matilda. There was that one time back in 1975 he'd won a set of pristine dentures in a hand of poker at Lenny's.
He glanced over his shoulder before stepping down into the smoke filled darkness. The potatoes were still pouring from the open hatch.
Lisa H. Owens
Inspired by an Inner Circle Writers' Group photo prompt.