Page 78 of When a Soul Cries

And when I say money, I ain’t talking about a couple hundred dollars tucked in a sock drawer.

I mean money.

Enough to make me sit my ass down and stare at it for a minute.

Enough to make me wonder what the hell I had really been involved in.

I moved after everything went left.

New place.

New routine.

New number.

I kept my distance and stayed quiet.

But I never touched the money right away.

That was the first thing I decided.

I needed to give it time.

I needed to make sure that man wasn’t coming back looking for what he’d left behind.

Because even though I had moved, I didn’t know what kind of reach he had. I didn’t know if he had people watching. I didn’t know if the money was clean, if he would notice it was gone, or if he would come searching for it once he realized I had it.

So I waited.

Months passed.

Then more months.

I kept checking over my shoulder every time an unfamiliar car sat outside too long. Every unknown number made me pause before answering. I changed passwords, kept my location private, and stopped posting anything that showed where I was or what I was doing.

I made myself small.

Invisible.

I didn’t suddenly start dressing different or buying expensive things. I didn’t move into some flashy apartment, trade my car in, or start taking trips that would make people wonder where the money came from.

I kept my same lifestyle.

Same car.

Same clothes.

Same habits.

I kept my part-time job too.

People saw me going to work, coming home, and living like I always had. Nobody had a reason to look twice at me.

That was exactly how I wanted it.

I wasn’t about to let anybody know I had something worth coming after.

I kept the money untouched while I watched and waited.