A writing exercise where the first line had to be 'What do you mean, you lost the lottery ticket?'
“What do you mean, you lost the lottery ticket?” He exclaimed in shocked disbelief as I hovered by the bedroom door. He wasn’t angry yet, but I don’t think the situation had fully dawned on him, or the implications thereof. His chair squeaked loudly as he leaned back, half turned from the computer to look at me as I ran a hand through my short hair.
“I mean I lost it; I can’t find it anywhere!” I replied worriedly. We really couldn’t afford to lose that much money; it was only five hundred pounds, but money was still money, and we needed it. This wasn’t like me. I wasn’t the one who usually lost things. Trust me to lose something when it actually mattered.
“Well, where did you have it last?” He asked with a sympathetic edge, though why he wasn’t angry I couldn’t say. I was angry. I was furious with myself. How could I lose it? I never lost things like this! “Chi, Chi! Come here…It’s ok, it’s fine.” Sam soothed as he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around me, knowing instinctively how worked up I was. He repeated his first question.
“I don’t know…” I replied automatically as I turned my face towards his neck to breathe in his light cologne. Where had I had it last? I’d picked it up at the corner shop the day before yesterday, and put it in my purse, but now it wasn’t in my purse. Had I used my purse since then? Yes; we’d gone to the Garden Café. The café only accepts cash, so I’d stopped at a cash point with Sam, and I’d seen the lottery ticket in my purse. “I gave it to you!” I realised as I pulled back and looked up at Sam, who was giving me a sheepish look.
“What do you mean? You gave it to me?” He asked almost playfully, trying not to grin as I pouted up at him. “I’m sure I would remember something like that Chi.” He added teasingly, resting his hands on my hips and swaying from side to side, grinning widely as I gave him a reproachful squeak. He laughed as I slapped his arm lightly.
“It’s not funny! I’ve been looking for ages! Where did you put it?” I demanded as he released me and stepped back, still laughing as he rubbed his upper arm. I tried to feel annoyed, but it didn’t work as he gave me an apologetic but amused smile; I was so relieved as he opened the bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing.
“In my jacket pocket.” He replied, his feet sounding rhythmically on the stairs as he jogged down them. I followed slowly and watched from the stairs as he searched the coat hooks for his battered brown leather jacket and checked the pockets. It wasn’t in either of the main ones, or the inside one. I bit my lip worriedly as he reached up to the breast pocket, which was the only one left. “I think this is it…” He mumbled distractedly as he pulled out a small folded piece of paper, which looked like a receipt.
“Thank God for that!” I sighed as he handed me the paper, which had the lottery numbers printed across it. “I’ll put it back in my purse.” I decided as I led the way back upstairs to the bedroom, where my scruffy brown shoulder bag hung on the clothes rail with my purse inside. As I returned my pink purse to the bag I heard a loud squeak, and turned to find Sam back in his chair staring at the computer screen as if he’d never been interrupted.