the smuggler’s bible

Dobri

Dobri rolls around on the floor for a few minutes, scrabbling under the couch for the dollar he remembers leaving down there.

Would it be easier to just get a bank account, he wonders. Is this effectively a bank account?

Before he gets too deep into the philosophy, the entire premise turns out to be bunk. His hand closes on a folded piece of paper.

Took the money, the note says. If you’re reading this, do the right thing and close the tab.

It is signed Dobri.

He sighs and gets out his wallet. Just the cost of doing business.