At 70, I retired and returned home to celebrate with my family. But that same day, I found out I'd been fired. – Story of the day

Ouadie Rhabbouron

Looks like my stepdaughter finally got rid of me.

For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustrative purposes only | Cosa: Pexel
For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

***

I sat there for 30 minutes. Maybe longer. I can't believe this damn sticker.

“Good,” I muttered. Then I remembered Bonnie.

She lived right across the street, and if anyone could handle a disaster like Delia's with ease, it was my Bonnie. We met in 1986, when I was still driving a Chevrolet that broke down every other day.

For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustrative purposes only | Cosa: Pexel
For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

Bonnie gave me some jumper cables and told me my ex-husband looked like a baked potato in khakis. Our friendship has continued to flourish ever since.

continued on the next page I grabbed my bags, picked up the crumbled cake, and crossed the street. Before I even knocked, the porch light came on. 

The door creaked open. There she was, her hair curled, her dress hanging off her shoulder, her cat draped over her hip like a cowboy's halter.

For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustrative purposes only | Cosa: Pexel
For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

"Well, I'm surprised. I thought you were halfway to Shady Pines."

 " What ? " 

"Delia said you were moving to one of those retirement communities. She said it was your idea. A gift from Tom. Finally some time for yourself." She narrowed her eyes. "Wait... it was your idea, right?"

For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustrative purposes only | Cosa: Pexel
For informational purposes only | Source: Pexels

I didn't say anything. I went in, put my bags down next to her chair, and set the cake on the kitchen counter. Bonnie followed me, barefoot and cautious.

continued on the next page

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