He was now counting the days.
They’d been a long two years, but his sentence was about to end. Just a couple of days to go. Seven years of house burglaries had brought him to this. He sat in his cell reflecting on the hardships of prison life, the things he missed, his wife’s affection and being able to play with the kids. He missed his privacy, his loss of freedom, the company of friends, going out drinking with his mates, attending football matches at his local club and the occasional fishing trips. He missed his favourite meals, his magazine collection, being able to go to the movies or visiting his favourite café, but at the end of the day, it was all about priorities.
Then, he thought about the stolen items that had been recovered before they were sold for cash. He thought about all that cash; about how none of it from all those robberies was ever recovered.
He grinned, as he thought about the fact that only he knew exactly where he had buried it.
