Hugo and the Stacks

It sat there.

My heart thudded, and my ears rang in the silence of the room. When I left this morning, my apartment was empty save for my overweight cat, Hugo, basking in the morning sun.

Now, there were two stacks of cash where he'd been sitting.

I knew no one was here; my apartment was not large enough to hide someone effectively. The balcony was too high for anyone to climb.

So, how did this happen? It was too good to be true.

I struggled to pay my bills, each month drowning in a sea of credit card debt and student loans. I often scribbled attempts at a budget in my little black notebook, but nothing stuck.

When you were as broke as I was, paycheque to paycheque was barely sufficient—budgeting for the future a pipe dream.

Hugo exited the kitchen and lazily sat beside the cash. I continued to stand with my back against the door, mind racing.

What was I going to do? Who should I even tell about this strange reverse robbery? Did someone break in and leave me money they'd stolen because my life looked so pathetic?

I could not come to any conclusion that made sense.

Hugo sauntered over to where I stood, frozen. He rubbed his body up and down my leg a few times before I absent-mindedly bent over to pick him up.

Feeling somewhat protected by the loudly purring fluffball in my arms, I took a few tentative steps toward the money.

"Hugo, did you see where this came from?" He just blinked at me and climbed around the back of my neck where he liked to perch.

The shock had mostly worn off. I now pondered everything I could do with this magical money. It was nothing extravagant; which kind of depressed me.

My thoughts didn't drift to fancy cars and trips around the world. Instead, I imagined paying my mother back for the rent she helped with last month. I'd pay off all of my debts and maybe we could move to a slightly larger apartment. Perhaps Hugo might get a fancy new cat condo.

With some money in the bank, I would finally be able to live a little. I would no longer furiously check my bank account in line at the grocery store. Every time I swiped, I wouldn't be scared to see that eight-letter word pop up.

DECLINED.

Face hot, stuttering, staring back at the cashier's awkward smile asking if I had another card. The "oh, it's probably just a mistake at the bank" excuses. It had all happened to me more times than I could count.

The two stacks of cash didn't look like a lot, but if I'd learned anything from the movies, smaller piles of money could still be more than I made in a year. They were hundreds, all neatly stacked with a paper band around each.

After what seemed like an eternity, I bent over and held one of the stacks in my hand. It was real; I was not hallucinating. I spent the next half an hour carefully counting out each bill.

$20,000. I was holding $20,000.

Hugo hopped off my shoulders as I painstakingly counted each bill again. I stared at him, mouth agape. He offered a sharp-toothed yawn in response.

It was frustrating to know this creature in my house saw the person who dropped this cash. Hugo was the keeper of all my secrets and the secrets of the apartment when I wasn't here.

What had he seen? What did he know?

"Hugo!" I shouted with fistfuls of cash. "Tell me what I should do!"

He stared, flicking his tail in annoyance.

"Yeah, I don't know either," I responded, dropping my hands to my sides. "I could turn it in to the police station?"

As I said this, I could've sworn Hugo glared at me. He lept from his chair and sat at my feet, staring into my soul menacingly.

I was starting to feel crazier than usual. Was my cat telling me to keep the money? It certainly felt that way. Did he have something to do with it? Was I living with a literal cat burglar?

"I should keep it then?"

Hugo purred in response; my heart began to thud once more.

"We'll never speak of this?"

Hugo stood, stretched and returned to his chair, keeping one eye on me and one eye on the money.