The package was delivered to the owner of Meadow’s Edge Inn with no return address. Elle opened it to find one silver spoon identical to the pattern her grandmother had passed down. They still used her set for their guests. Under the spoon was a hand-written note:
I’m returning this spoon I stole four years ago. My life has been horrible ever since. My dog was hit by a bicycle, my wife ran away with a statistician, my gums became infected and my teeth fell out. I lost my job over it. I’m an otherwise honest man, taught not to steal. I only wanted a part of your charming inn, something no one else had. But I believe this spoon is cursed. Please take it back. I never want to see it again.
Elle refolded the letter and chuckled. Then placed the spoon in a glass case which held a collection of returned hand towels, room keys, ashtrays, and salt shakers. “Nicely done, Grandmother,” she whispered.
Kathy Whipple is a musician, artist, and writer living in Boise, Idaho. Her writing is inspired by her travels and time living in Southeast Asia. She has previously published in CafeLit, Spillwords, Madswirl, and Friday Flash Fiction.