Borrowed from the jar.

I volunteered as treasurer for a small neighbourhood group that raised money for elderly residents ' lifts to hospital, meals, heating help. The donations were mostly coins and small notes, dropped into a battered tin after meetings. At first, when the balance came up short, I made excuses. Loose accounting. Forgotten receipts. Then one evening, short on money myself, I took a tenner and told myself I'd replace it next week. I never did. Over months it became routine ' a note here, some coins there. No one noticed because it was all so informal. They trusted me because I was 'reliable.' The day an old woman cried because her heating fund was delayed, I stopped. I still see her face when I pass collection jars.