Ficlets

“How much you need?” Eddie asked me, standing behind the immaculate, if not expensive, white desk. Everything in the place looked clean and sterile; it was no wonder they’d decided to use a laundromat as a front.

And the noise from the machines and the cheap 60’s soundtrack leaking out of the speakers worked in their favor. It covered up the low hum emanating from the back room.

I was agitated, tapping my fingers against the desk’s smooth whitness.

“Just five minutes. You know, Eddie. The usual.” Tap. Tap. Tap. It was almost unbearable. I hadn’t seen her in over a month.

“Year?” Eddie asked.

I almost couldn’t contain my anxiety. He knew what year. I was a regular.

”’87.”

“Date?”

“July 19th.” The day before she died. The last time I ever saw her.

“Alright, man,” Eddie said as I handed over the ten grand. “You know the drill.” He started recounting the rules as he opened the door – standard procedure – but I couldn’t concentrate.

Those five minutes are worth every penny.