A Small Lie for Sweet Relief

So there I was at the café this morning, and things were busy as usual. I had just finished making a customer's latte when I realized something wasn't right with the till. We'd run out of small bills, and we only had a $20 bill from the previous shift that needed to be exchanged. But there was no time to wait for the bank or even another employee to count it out, the line was getting long, and customers were starting to get impatient. That’s when I did something pretty naughty: I pocketed the money under the pretense of needing it for a lunch break errand. It felt awful at first, but then this weird sense of relief washed over me. Here I am, married with kids and responsibilities, and sometimes these small moments of carefree impulsiveness are all I have left. I’ll definitely return the cash today after work, but confessing to this feels like admitting a youthful indiscretion, like when you used to sneak snacks without permission. It's silly, really, because it’s not even about the money; it’s about feeling alive for a moment and forgetting who I am in the role of 'responsible adult.'