Lottery Tickets

John was whistling as he walked up the path, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

“Hey there, cowboy,” Christine crooned from the open window. John stopped short, raised a hand to block the sun. When he saw her there in the fold of the curtain, his face lifted into a smile. 

“I got ‘em,” he said. “Every last one.” From within his pocket, he withdrew a fistful of stolen lottery tickets. Then he pressed them to his nose, inhaling deeply.