She blinked in the blinding sunlight and lumbered around the side of the old farm house, dragging the burdensome load behind her. Just a little further and you'll be finished, she told herself. Gertrude waved at her through the windshield and swung open the door. The deafening roar of the propellers made Agnes grimace. She hated flying.
"Ready?" Gertrude shouted over the din. Agness nodded, hefted the canvas bag up and settled into her seat. She closed her tired eyes and waited for her sister to taxi the Cessna to the end of the corn field; the bag lay heavy at her feet. As the plane lifted, she caught her breath, enjoying the sudden sensation of weightlessness. The ancient farm shrunk below as the plane banked to the left, toward town. Eyes wide, Agnes watched Main Street come into view. She tapped Gertrude on the shoulder, pointing toward the tall spire; the orphanage lay hidden amongst the trees. Her sister nodded and smiled behind her aviator glasses.
"This is for all the times you took what wasn't yours," she whispered as the plane droned. "These kids won't have to go without. Unlike us. Happy Birthday, Uncle Earl." Agnes pulled the drawstring on the bag and watched the hundred dollar bills flutter in the wind. Gertrude hooted and hollered from her seat as they watched the embezzled money rain down on the town below.
Agnes felt lighter than she had in all her 87 years. Lighter than air.
Linking up with Trifecta: 33-333 words inspired by the single word rain (to take a lot of money in bill form and toss it up in the air.)
Linking up with Write at the Merge this week - inspired by the words: cellar door ("perfectly euphonic phrase, some say the most beautiful in the English language.") and a picture of a propeller..