She studied his shoes.
A tiny hole had started in the left one.
She’d made the right choice: He needed this job.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to erase my life.”
He looked up from his coffee, removed his feet from the
desk. “You sure?”
She nodded. “My boss wants
passwords to all my accounts.”
“Can’t you just delete them?”
She shook her head. “Not
good enough.” She leaned forward. “Listen.
I need this job.”
He nodded and struck his keyboard. The screen cast an eerie bluish glow on his
She waved a hand impatiently. “Yes, all of it. Everything.
I want it gone. My record must be
“Gotcha.” He grinned
and tapped keys, occasionally reaching over for his coffee without looking.
An hour later, he glanced up. “Nearly there. Oh, and I don’t know if my secretary told you,
but I only accept cash.”
“She told me.” She’d
been reluctant to withdraw two thousand dollars from the account she shared
with her husband. But she’d assured him
it would be worth it. She would have a
job. They’d be able to pay the bills
again. She handed the stack of money
across the desk. “Under the table?”
He shook his head, still looking at his computer screen. “Nope.
I pay my taxes.”
“Don’t want to take a chance on bouncing checks?”
“That’s generally not an issue. People know I can put back what I take away.”
“Then why the insistence on cash?”
He gave an evil grin.
“Because once I hit this delete button, your life will, per your request
will be erased.”
She watched his hand hit the keyboard.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
She headed home, opened the front door. “Sorry I’m late, honey.” She flopped down on the couch. “I just had the most amazing thing happen to
Her husband of fifteen years looked at her; frowned. “Who the hell are you?”
This was written for this week's Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week's word was clean.
Labels: fiction Trifecta Writing Challenge