Pamela and Barbara stood over the mattress, the quilt half-folded back to reveal stacks of bundled bills. The cash smelled faintly of dust and old rubber bands, the kind of scent that clung to forgotten storage boxes.
Pamela frowned slightly, arms crossed. "Barbara… how are we going to transport six hundred thousand dollars?"
Barbara tilted her head, her lips pulling into a knowing look. "Why don't we just do what most people do? Stick it in a big black trash bag."
Pamela raised a brow. "You seriously think that'll work?"
Barbara's tone carried confidence. "You underestimate how many people actually take stuff to the thrift store in black garbage bags. Clothes, junk—people do it all the time."
Pamela considered it, then nodded once. "You know what? That sounds great. But just to be safe, let's wrap the money in a blanket first so the edges don't peek through the bag. Then it will really look like clothes."
Barbara's eyes lit up. "That's genius."
Pamela pulled an old quilt with faded floral stitching from the closet. Together, they stacked the money in the center, folding the fabric around it tightly. It looked bulky, but unremarkable. Barbara dug under the kitchen sink, pulling out a thick black garbage bag, the kind meant for heavy trash.
Pamela gave a small chuckle. "I'm surprised how many people keep these bags under the kitchen sink."
Barbara shrugged. "It's not that surprising. That's where most people take out the trash from. It makes sense."
Pamela smirked faintly. "You sure know a lot about household logistics, Barbara. Are you looking for a roommate?"
Barbara tilted her head thoughtfully. "Well, I do live alone. My dad has a place for me off campus. You could crash there if you wanted to."
Pamela tied the quilt tighter and slipped it into the garbage bag. "I'll think about it. But with six hundred thousand dollars, I could probably get myself something nice."
Barbara's voice dropped to a playful edge. "What about me?"
Pamela glanced at her as she twisted the plastic shut. "You get three hundred thousand of it. That's enough for a penthouse or something."
Barbara's expression softened, the words hitting deeper than she expected. "You're so good to me."
Pamela lifted the bag, heavy but manageable, and rested it on her shoulder. Her voice was low and confident. "We're just getting started, honey. Just getting started."
Barbara scanned the room one last time, wiping away any signs of their earlier violence. Once satisfied, she joined Pamela at the door. They stepped into the hallway, the trash bag swinging slightly at Pamela's side.
Halfway down, a door opened. A middle-aged man stepped out, jingling his keys as he locked up. He noticed the bag Pamela carried and gave a friendly smile. "Ah, taking some stuff to the thrift store, I see?"
Pamela matched his tone, returning the smile politely. "That's right. Can't just let stuff pile up in the apartment."
The man nodded approvingly. "You girls know a lot for being so young."
Barbara gave him a courteous smile. "Thank you, sir."
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