Today, on this 777th day in a row of Daily Writing Practice, your job is to pick one of the seven deadly sins and use that as your prompt. Don't worry about using the same one I or a previous commenter chose, just go with the one that inspires something creative in you.
Another day at the beach today. This time I brought back a picture:
He'd been telling his wife for years that he would quit as soon as he'd made enough for them to live out the rest of their lives in complete comfort. She knew it was a lie, that they could have afforded a plush retirement already, but she played her part with smiles and sweet, murmured understandings.
It's a powerful thing, the knowledge that you do something extremely well, perhaps even better than anyone else on the planet. That sort of self-confidence is impossible to replace, which only makes giving it up that much harder.
But his desire to go on had more to do with a thirst for more money and, more specifically, the sort of things that money could buy. He liked to sample life's perks, the more exotic the better. And the truth was that there would never be enough money to retire with if he insisted on spending what he made at such a frenetic pace.
Then came the day that his wife knew would eventually arrive. The job went sour, the cops were tipped off, and suddenly the most prolific bank robber since Dillinger would be spending the rest of his days behind bars.
This, needless to say, was not the sort of retirement he'd been talking about.