It's Still Life

The Old Woman and the Suspiciously Quiet Cash Register

the cash register hasn’t made a cha-ching in three days.
not a beep. not a rattle. just—
the silence of a thousand unpaid invoices.

the old woman leans in, whispers:
“you owe me.”
the register exhales a single, sad receipt:
error: charisma not found.

the cat (now a forensic accountant)
paws at the keys:
“it’s obviously embezzling.
or hacked.
or both.”

the crow drops a how to fix your retail woes! pamphlet,
stolen from a self-help shelf:
“page 42: have you tried turning it off
and lying about it?”

the old woman unplugs the machine.
it makes a sound like
a deflating corporate dream.

the ghost-robin, haunting the small change jar, mutters:
“back in my day,
we just stole the whole register.”