ENTRY #1
Future Proofing
There was a flash of lightning, and thunder split the air with a bang. Smoke rapidly filled the alley and the beggar was left coughing and wheezing for air. Just as quickly as it arrived, the smog vanished to leave the young man staring at an otherworldly sight.
Standing straight backed and with proper posture, was a man. His clothes were bizarre, but if the beggar had lived in twentieth century Earth, he would have known the visitor wore a tailored suit from Gives and Hawkes, and a pair of Armani shoes. Clasped around his neck was a tie with smiling ducks on it. He held a briefcase in his arms.
“I am Jim!”
The visitor spoke, with the booming voice of a demon the beggar expected. The beggar shivered in fear for a moment, afraid to speak.
“What's a Jim?” He managed to croak.
“I am a Futures Salesman! I sell Futures, more importantly in this case, yours! From pauper to king and from street corner to penthouse. Time and space are no worries for Jim! Scrubbing the floor of your evil stepmother? Call Jim! He'll fix it!”
The two men stared at one another in the tense silence that followed the pitch. Finally Jim cracked, his face eclipsing grin twitching slightly.
“And, uh, what can I do for you?”
“You get away from me, you, you, you devil!” the beggar said, stumbling back against the wall. He made the sign of the cross with his fingers. Jim paused, considering this might be a tricky sale. It tended to be whenever people started flashing makeshift crucifixes at him. In fact, at that very moment, the beggar knew his time was up. The demon was about to wring his neck and everything would be over. He closed his eyes and waited for the fiery end. Jim found himself swallowing back a laugh.
“See here, good friend, take a look at what old Jim can offer you!”
The beggar opened his eyes and the man in front of him was holding some sort of rectangular mirror. Except, instead of his reflection, the surface showed a stream of moving pictures. They all looked so real it was as if the beggar found himself watching the world as God must have done. Moving closer, he jumped back once more as he saw himself on the mirror. He was eating a hearty meal. His clothes looked tidier and his face less ruddy.
“What foul magic is this?”
“It's called an iPad,” Jim said, throwing an arm around the beggar's body. He tried not to think about the thick film of filth that was now probably coating his suit. The beggar shivered but Jim's touch didn't cause a burning agony. “But I can do you much better than that. What tickles your fancy? What makes your ticker tick? What's your most burning desire?”
The beggar looked at the man beside him, his eyes narrowing. A good, strong man would turn and resist the demon's temptation. Another night of trawling the streets looking for food, though, waited in the shadows for the beggar. A good man could afford to resist. He couldn't. “I'd like to be a bishop.”
“A bishop?”
“The way I see it, a bishop is the way to go. Kings are always being deposed and the rest of us always have the bishops telling us what we can't do. And have you ever seen a skinny bishop? Always get their food.” The beggar found his mouth watering at the thought.
Jim laughed, hitting his client on his shoulder. Then his fingers were tapping on the iPad, searching through various futures, flicking them off to the side to bring up another. Already the beggar could feel himself slipping closer to Hell, knowing that the demon now had him tightly in his grasp. The idea of a cooked meal, though, helped to relieve his terror. With a triumphant laugh, Jim shoved the iPad in front of the beggar's face. There, in a pointy hat and a white flowing robe, he saw himself conducting Mass.
“But how?” the beggar said.
Jim considered trying to explain the Many Worlds Interpretation. He pictured all the ways someone could explain how parallel universes are created with every decision made, each branching out and diverging. He thought about attempting to teach a beggar about spacetime and the notion that all of time already existed. If someone could handle those concepts, the idea of selling futures made a lot of sense. With enough universes and the ability to map out all their lifespan, it was easy to compile them, then find and present the future most like the one the client wanted. Then after the i's were dotted and the t's crossed, you packed them off to their chosen universe and their chosen future. To a man of the 21st century, it was just about explainable. To this beggar, Jim would have rather grated his tongue.
“Magic,” Jim grinned, deciding on the easier option. “But look, before we send you off to your merry bishoping, let's talk terms and conditions.”
***
Jim collapsed into his chair. Historical sales were always the toughest. They were always wanting to know if you really weren't trying to haggle over their eternal soul. Back in his office, Jim thought about fleeing, heading home and leaving the paperwork till tomorrow. The idea was attractive but he knew he'd regret it in the morning. Under the watchful gaze of numerous family portraits, he opened Bishop Collier's file and began to enter in the various facts of the deal. The Bishop had already paid for the transaction. Stifling a yawn, Jim looked at the picture of his wife on his desk. Co-workers always refused to meet the eyes of the photographs dotted around the wall. If they weren't looking at him, they would choose a spot of naked wall and stare at it.
“Whoa, burning the midnight oil there, Jim?”
Glancing up from his screen, Jim saw a man highlighted by the door frame to his office. He felt the ends of his mouth twitching upwards. “You still seem to be here too. What are you doing all dressed up?”
“Hobnobbing with management. They're making a decision on Elijah's replacement tomorrow. The water cooler talk says it's down to either Bec or me. And Bec has an appointment to get to, so all smooth sailing from here.”
“Christ, am I that unpromotable? I didn't even get an invite.”
“Come on, Jim,” the man said, gesturing to the photographs. “You're never going to get higher than this.”
“I'm fighting for all of us here, Ishant. If I can pull having a family off, anyone can. Heck, let me come with. I'll cause some waves. Rock some boats. Let management know I won't be ignored,” Jim said, rising to his feet.
Ishant laughed, his palms open in front of him. “Steady on there, comrade. I think you're wanted at home. Susie's been ringing for you all day. I wouldn't keep her waiting.”
Pursing his lips, Jim nodded, waving Ishant on. Susie hated the phone. She couldn't stand being unable to see someone's eyes as she talked. Shutting down his computer, not even bothering to close the various tabs, Jim scooped up his keys and wallet and was out the door before Ishant had even reached the end of the corridor. Sitting in the car, caught in the last dredges of rush hour traffic, he drummed a tune against the wheel. His fingertips moved quicker. Faces appeared in front of him. Did his father look paler the last time they spoke? Was his mother forgetting a few more details than usual? His knuckles were now white, his fingers tight around his wheel. Yellow lights became an invitation to speed up. Crossings were torture. By the time he pulled in his driveway, Jim had already decided Susie was waiting inside with news of a freak accident that wiped out half of his family.
It was pitch black inside. Jim could hear his heart beating in the darkness. His hands crawled along the wall like a spider, fumbling for the light switch. “Susie?” The light came on.
She was waiting for him in the middle of the room and he knew everything was okay. Jim always could. He knew her lips crinkled when she was sad and her ears would try to peak out through her brown hair when she was happy. Today, though, she was glowing. He had never seen her eyes so bright and wide. A smile broke through the placid surface she tried to maintain across her face. It was only when she gave something resembling a hiccup of joy did Jim notice she was standing in the wreckage of a flat-pack piece of furniture. The picture on the box was of a cot.
“I was going to surprise you,” Susie said, her voice stumbling off a cliff halfway through the sentence. It was hard to talk through a giant's grin. “But I think... I think I'm not very good at this.”
Jim opened his mouth and he could have sworn he said something, but the room remained silence. His heart was growing, his chest suddenly a prison against the joy spreading through him. Twenty years of pent-up thoughts washed over him in a tsunami. At some point he'd stumbled across names he liked, and his mind raced through mazes, trying to remember what songs he wanted to share and what books he would read at bedtime. Someone was laughing in the room and he looked around the empty lounge, expecting to see his father or brother ready to congratulate him. Only when Susie joined in, her hand trying to stifle the machine gun fire of joy, did Jim realize it was his laughter.
“You're not messing with me?” he said. “This isn't a joke?”
“Of course not!”
Susie was in his arms in an instant, her laughter stifled against his shirt. Holding her tight, Jim lifted her from the ground and spun her around the room. They were on their fourth trip before he realized he might be upsetting the baby. Could he upset the baby so early? How early was it anyway? The thoughts carried on spinning even after he stopped. Susie was still laughing against him, her eyes glistening as she looked up at him. His heart surged another size larger and he was overcome with an urge to kiss her, to hold, to never let go. Together they stood there, in each other arms, laughing and kissing until Jim felt the muscles in his arms whimper in protest.
“Have you told anyone yet?” he said, finally pulling himself away.
Susie shook her head, taking a hold of his hand. Her skin felt so warm against his. “You had to be the first.”
“We've got to tell everyone! Get the phone, I'll get the laptop. Your parents, first, since they'll see it on Facebook otherwise. My parents next. Oh, and I'll get a bottle of wine... or not? Maybe wat-” Jim lost his steam as Susie broke out into another round of laughter and he soon followed.
Several hours later, they were together in bed. The moonlight hungered at the curtain, slipping through any gaps in the fabric. Susie was a steady weight against him and her chest rose and fell with the gentle ease of a calm, peaceful sea. Every now and then a little mumble escaped her lips and Jim smiled wider. Staring up at the ceiling, he traced the pattern of the wallpaper with his eyes. The voices of congratulations echoed through his ears. His mother's shrill scream, his father's strangled grunt that erupted into violent sobbing as he soldiered his way through something about happiness and pride. At the time, it was the most touching Jim had ever heard. Now he had to stifle a laugh. Did his father really mean to say that he was proud that his only son had learnt how to correctly use his penis? Over thirty years and his father was still making him laugh. Jim hoped his own kid would feel the same. The ceiling seemed to drift away, sinking into the darkness, as he thought about what his child would be like. As much as he loved Susie, he hoped the kid would be blessed with his teeth instead of hers. They would hopefully have her brain but his gift of the gab. Questions swirled in the night. Would they do well at school? Would they be successful? He wished he knew the answers.
It was only when he slipped somewhere between reality and dreams did Jim remember he could find out.
***
“Nope, I don't get it,” Ishant was saying, half a burger stuffed in his mouth. “You can explain it all you like. Throw in as much pseudo-psychology you know, I'm not buying it. This girl had so many futures lined up. I'm practically selling her the Crown Jewels. She takes the suburban housewife on offer.”
“Was she happy?”
Jim was sat with his feet on his desk, a soda in his hand. He knew he should have gone for water and a salad but the sugary order had tumbled free from his mouth before he could stop himself. His expansionist stomach was beginning to draw a few passing comments from relatives, but honestly, it was unfair. He spent three hours asleep most nights, if that, before he was whisked away to try and settle Charlotte. Taking another bite of his own burger, Jim looked up at his friend. Friday lunches in his office were becoming a weekly ritual. Ishant was far happier to be around him now that management crowned Bec as the heir apparent and gave her the last promotion. She had cancelled her appointment and made the drinks after all. Jim's question seemed to floor Ishant. His burger hovered in mid-air and Ishant's eyebrows desperately sought to merge. “Happy? Yeah, I'm sure she lives a fulfilling life, Jim. But she could have been anything! This girl, I've never seen so much potential.”
“Everyone has potential with enough universes. Maybe she realized she'd be killing the other universe version of herself? Maybe she didn't want to kill off that potential? Anyway, it was her choice, no point fussing about it now. We still get paid.”
Ishant swatted away the comment. “You look like shit, by the way. You know that?”
Laughing, Jim let the conversation drift away into stories of a new born parent. Everyone in the company seemed to seek him out, trying to wear the clothes of parenthood vicariously. They wanted to see all the photographs and hear all of the stories. He was getting a lot of track out of Charlotte's first laugh, perfectly in time with one of her daddy's jokes. “I mean, here's most twenty-somethings not getting satire and my little girl is picking up on it right away.”
“So she's going to be a comedian, huh? I thought she was a shoe-in for the White House last week?” Ishant's eyes shifted to the clock. “Shit, is that the time? I've got one more sale to make today!”
In a blur, Ishant sent the burger wrapper flying through the air. It nestled in the trash can and he raced from the office before Jim could barely finish his goodbyes. Left alone, he chugged his soda, thinking about his little girl. As much as he joked with people about her future successes, it was hard not to fist pump whenever Charlotte did something months before the midwives said she would. She'd be walking and talking in no time. The clock ticked on the wall. The sound echoed through the empty room. Jim remembered the fleeting moment on the borders of sleep where he considered looking their future up. He'd thought about it a lot. Every quiet second he had, the idea crossed his mind. He would be driving, or standing in the shower, or staring unseeing at the television, and suddenly he would be thinking about seeing what their destination was. Sometimes, when his guard was down, he even found himself halfway through typing Charlotte's name into the company's system. It was strictly off-limits for obvious reasons. He drummed his fingers against the soda can. Still, it wasn't impossible to do. Only his access would trigger an automatic alarm. If anybody else researched it, it would only be noticed if someone consciously twigged that was his daughter's name. His fingers tapped against his drink. It would be stupid to look.
It took only five minutes to find someone who had left their computer unlocked and unattended. Anyone over the age of fifty seemed incapable of remembering to hit control, alt, delete before heading off to do something else. Jim wasn't even sure whose office he was in. It was probably for the best. Holding his breath, he entered his daughter's name and let the search take place. It took forever. The nearby clock seemed to scream with every passing second as the computer searched through the various universes to pull out Charlotte's current future. A file pinged to life and a document jumped onto the screen.
Jim read it several times. By the fourth time, his eyes may have been looking, but he was a hundred miles away. A secretary and then a site manager at a dental practice. Two marriages. Attempted to go back to university as an adult student and dropped out part way through. Died with her friends and family next to her in a small, overflowing little cottage. His baby girl's life was laid out in front of him. Jim tried to tell himself it looked like a happy life, that not everyone could die with their loved ones. As his eyes traced the route of Charlotte's life, though, he felt an empty pit expanding in his stomach. How did he fail his little girl? Without thinking, he began to flick through other universes, to see other futures, as if he was offering choices up to another customer. Some were worse. Some were better. They seemed to occur evenly. His Charlotte's life was that average. Then, finally, the fist-sized diamond in the mine. Yale. Law School. Work in Geneva and the Hague. Secretary of State. Jim delved deeper into the universe, avoiding the temptation to click through to his name, the invisible trap wires ready to set off the alarm bell. Instead he searched through his family and friends, reconstructing his happy life with Susie. Footsteps grew louder down the hall. His heart setting off on a hundred metre sprint, Jim closed down the application and raced back to the comforts of his own office.
That night, Jim found it hard to meet Susie's eyes. Looking at Charlotte almost made him cry. There was an amazing life waiting for her with just a few different choices. Every time she looked at him with her beautiful, tiny face, he felt a sledgehammer to his stomach. How could he let her down? It was his job to give her the best life he could. Susie asked if he was okay and he just managed to squeeze out a yes before his voice threatened to buckle against the strain. He didn't hold Charlotte that night. Feigning a headache, Jim hid away in his bedroom, pretending to be asleep once Susie had got Charlotte to settle.
The night seemed colder and darker than it had any right to be. Lying there in the bed, Jim stared up at the ceiling. The pattern of the wallpaper was hidden in the darkness. Susie breathed beside him. A giggle came across the baby monitor and a crack spread across Jim's heart. Easing himself out of bed, moving like a cat on the prowl, he disappeared into the dimly lit bathroom. The colors seemed to have drained from the tiles. With his hands on either side of the sink, Jim stared back at the pale reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were darker than usual and jagged rivers of red ran across his bloodshot scleras. A site manager at a dental practice wasn't so bad and Charlotte would die happy. Surely that counted for something. Every time Jim closed his eyes, though, he saw the more successful Charlotte and the happier Susie. They stayed there for weeks, behind his eyelids, ambushing him whenever Jim tried to slip away.
A few weeks later, Jim walked into work on a sick day. Only several people noticed him and they stayed away. His shirt was untucked and a stain spread out across the front pocket. His eyes were more red than white. Slipping into his office, there was a satisfying clink behind him, the lock sliding into place. By the time security had managed to shoulder their way through the door, the unauthorized transaction had already been made. Jim was gone.
***
Jim hadn't moved. In this universe, his office wasn't quite so cramped with photographs. There was more bare wall and the visual made Jim's body shiver. A soda can sat on his desk and his shaking fingers reached out for it. The metal was cold against his skin, the drink half-empty. Taking a sip from the can, Jim was relieved to find that Pepsi still tasted the same way. His new universe couldn't be that different then. Looking down at his dishevelled clothing, he didn't want to go home to Susie and Charlotte looking like such a mess. Finding a spare suit and shirt hanging in his office cupboard, Jim smiled, glad that so many things were remaining the same. His hands steadied as he got changed. His heartbeat slowed. Before this morning, he didn't even plan on making the jump. Waking early to avoid his own family at breakfast, though, and he realized something had to break.
Nobody saw him leave the office, which was fortunate as Jim had to return to grab the car keys from his desk. He would have laughed but the nerves still bubbled through his blood. The midday traffic was light and Jim eased his way through arteries of the city. Despite everything he knew about the slight differences in various universes, he still expected to find that everyone drove on the left or that sharks could fly. Instead, it was just a usual day. The sun was out. The sky the most wonderful blue. He nearly jogged from the car to the front door of his house, bounding over the threshold and into the living room.
“Honey, what are you doing home so,” Susie began, turning to look at him. Her expression expanded in shock, eyes, nostrils and mouth opening wide. “Oh Jim, are you okay? Your eyes! Is it your hayfever?”
Jim stared at Susie, his feet taking a step back on their own motion. “What?”
“Your eyes, honey. They're so bloodshot. What's wrong?”
It made sense. The Jim that left home today hadn't looked at his future, or if he had, he wouldn't have dwelt on it. He wouldn't have spent weeks without sleep. Susie's concern was only natural, though that Jim was now dead. As she reached up to touch his face, Jim stepped back. There was a tiny, jagged scar just under Susie's ear. He had never noticed it before. It was so very small, a tiny worm on her skin. Even someone who knew her for decades might not have noticed it. The question hung over Jim's neck, threatening to crush him underfoot. Had he never noticed it or did his Susie never have that scar? It shouldn't have mattered. Even if it was some old cut his Susie had avoided, it didn't change who Susie was. Yet, looking into her eyes, Jim felt an icy cold sink deep into his bones.
“Jim, are you okay?”
“Fine, I'm fine. Just, just feeling a little overworked. Where's Charlotte?”
“She's having a nap.” Susie didn't ask why he wanted to see Charlotte and in those glorious seconds, Jim could pretend everything was going to be fine. Since her birth, both of them had felt the need to just watch her live. To see her round eyes and touch her tiny fingers. Jim's need for that now was overflowing.
Breathing a sigh of relief that Susie hadn't followed, her footsteps pottering off to the kitchen, Jim stepped inside his daughter's bedroom. It looked exactly how he remembered it. Hovering by the door, he considered walking back out. The room was the same; everything was the same. He was overreacting. Still, he couldn't postpone the moment forever and the idea of it hanging over him stiffened his resolve. He crossed the room in several long steps and bent over the white, wooden cot. Charlotte was asleep, her tiny body wiggling in her dreams. Her baby face just starting to slim and her tiny hands nestled beneath her chin. Jim recoiled. He staggered back across the room, fleeing to the security of a darkened corner. That wasn't his daughter. It looked like his daughter, it even smelt like his daughter. But everything was just off, as if all her features were just a quarter of an inch to the left. It wasn't Charlotte, it wasn't his Charlotte. She was in a different universe, unaware that her dad had disappeared. The doorbell rung and a woman who wasn't his wife, who was just a replica of his wife, went to answer it. Burying his face in his hands, Jim tried not to breakdown. The weight of his mistake was pushing down on his shoulder, shrinking him, crushing him until he felt he was going to scream from the physical pain.
“Jim? Jim?” Susie's voice filled the room, her head sticking around the door. “Ishant's here to see you... Jim?”
Jim ran a finger along his cheeks, glad to find them dry. “Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he said, knowing the question was coming. Pushing past his not-quite-wife, he headed down the hall, catching sight of Ishant at the door.
The man seemed taller, his posture prouder. His hair was slicked and his smile whiter. Framed by the front door, wearing a crisp, pinstriped, black suit, Ishant looked like the government ready to whisk Jim away. Offering a half-hearted shrug, he caught Ishant's eyes and lost his footing, his hand reaching out for the dresser by the wall. Ishant knew. He could just tell. Ishant knew exactly what had happened. Nodding his head to the driveway, his co-worker headed back out of the house and Jim followed. Behind him he could hear a woman talking to her sleeping daughter.
“Figured you could do with a drive,” Ishant said, walking out to the sleek, pinnacle of German engineering in front of them. “And we agreed it was best to get you out of the house before you did something stupid.”
“We?” Jim said. Mindless questions offered a numb comfort, a coat to wrap around his exposed soul.
“Management,” Ishant said. His mouth was grim and he climbed into the driver's seat. “I guess Bec must have cancelled that appointment in your universe?”
“How did you know?”
“Don't be an idiot, Jim. We've got every single universe on our system, don't you think there might be an internal check for when someone does something stupid. This, this Mr Family Rights Campaigner, is why we shouldn't employ people with strong personal connections. Why would you look it up? What were you trying to achieve?”
The weight on his shoulder had moved to Jim's heart and lungs, slowly pressing tighter and tighter. He let Ishant prattle on about all sorts of company policy. At this moment in time, though, he didn't really want to listen about Niven's Fallacy. No man wants to be lectured to like a child, even during the best of times. Jim watched the city drift by. He tried not to think of Not-Charlotte and Not-Susie, the strangers so like his family. Something crawled beneath his skin whenever his brain revolted and he pictured them in front of him.
“Where are we going?” Jim asked.
“Everywhere.”
“Don't be a dick.” Jim looked over to Ishant, but his eyes remained locked on the road in front of him. “Can you send me back?”
Ishant's eyebrows jagged upwards. “Maybe, possibly. We don't do refunds, as you well know. Conceivably, we could put you back in the universe you just left. But will it matter? How will you know if it's really the same? It could be one of thousands. The one where you always intended to come back or the one where you didn't? Perhaps your family is in the universe where you never come back? We'll send you back and the paranoia will slowly kill you.”
“But we could try?”
“We could,” Ishant said. He pulled the car off to one side, the city now a shadow in the background. Towering trees gathered around them. “But we're not going to. Christ, you've already killed my universe's Jim, how many other Jim's do you want to bring down just to see if you can find your right family? I'm not going to be a part of that. I'm not going to leave my universe's Susie and Catherine without their Jim.”
“I'm not their Jim! How can I go back and live with total strangers!”
Running his hand through his hair, Ishant unlocked the door and clambered out of the car. Jim followed. They stood on some quiet side road, winding through the forest outside their city. Long ago, he had once taken Susie out here for the night. Jim wondered if Ishant knew, if this was a desperate attempt to knock some sentiment into him. Crossing his arms, he watched as his co-worker sat on the bonnet of the car.
“Honestly, Jim, you really don't have a clue, do you?” Ishant said, turning to look at him. Jim's stomach dropped at the look on the man's face. It was a look of pity. “The future you saw? That future still exists. You bought it. It's waiting for you. You've just got to wear the cost.”
“They're not my family,” Jim said, surprised that what started in his mind as a yell came out barely more than a whisper.
“They could be.” Ishant shrugged and stood up from the car. “For a Jim who finishes talking with me, they will be. The choice is if you're that Jim.”
It was as if walls were quickly being built around him, funnelling him to one of two exits. Jim wanted to scream. An urge grew to kick out at the car, to hack at the trees. Instead he felt the taste of salt dripping into his mouth. His dam had finally burst. “Can I,” Jim said, struggling to push against the narrowing of his throat. “Can I take the car for a drive? Clear my head.”
“Let me grab my phone. At least I'll be able to call someone when you don't come back.”
“Hey, I won't leave you stranded here.”
Ishant shrugged. “In one universe you will. I've got to be prepared if I'm the unlucky one.”
He didn't say another word and Jim waited until the man had picked up his phone before climbing into the driver's seat. In the car's mirror, Jim saw Ishant watch him leave.
***
The weather had the good decency to dress for the occasion. Grey, ominous looking clouds sat over the funeral. It didn't rain. The only tears came from the family sat in front of the obsidian black coffin. Susie was in the front row, Charlotte in her arms, and she cried so much that the people around her forgot what her smile looked like. Off to one side, torn between wanting to pay their respects and feeling like spectators of a very special type of grief not meant for them, Jim's co-workers stood. Ishant was in the middle. Every time someone looked at him, he turned away. The accusatory glances were too much for him. He had parked his cheap Japanese import a few streets away. The insurance company hadn't accepted his claim for the wreckage of his last car.
“I just don't know why he would do it?” someone was saying to his left. Ishant didn't offer any answers. It was hard to
“What have you got there, honey?” Jim said, looking up at Charlotte. She was sitting in her high chair, giggling with grapes in her crushed hands. Jim struggled to contain his laughter as she smeared the remains across her face. Susie rushed from the kitchen to
“Why did you let her make such a mess,” Susie snapped, the cloth running across the table. Jim looked up, trying not to cringe as he always did when he looked directly at his not-quite-wife's eyes. He just wanted breakfast to end and for him to get to
The apartment was too small. Jim should have noticed that before he paid a deposit for three months. Then again, he really just needed a place to crash until he could settle himself in his new home. Susie hated the cold, she was unlikely to follow him to Canada. And if she did, then
“I'm off,” Jim said, leaning over the table to kiss Susie goodbye. Her lips lingered on his, their arms snaking around each other and they only pulled apart when Charlotte began to throw grapes at
“I am a Futures Salesman! I sell Futures, the very best that reality can offer. Take your pick. Tired of life's getting you down? Call Jim! He'll fix it!” Jim grinned and the Victorian woman in front of him looked as if she might just be interested.
