"WHAT DID I SAY?"

100 Words of autoFICTION

“Why did you ask me to review this if you were set to invest in it all along anyway?” I asked, the “boutique vodka” literature spread out on the table.

My father stared blankly at the slick marketing package. They had no nest egg but the $20,000 he had already wired to the cold-caller.

I was baffled. “This is gambling.”

Mom’s face froze.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice strangled, and lumbered back to his La-Z-Boy to watch golf.

Months later, after he died, Mom mentioned his secret gambling problem. She never got a dime back of the money he sent.