Buyer's Remorse

“That is what you wanted, isn’t it.” The speaker cut an imposing figure, tall and bulky wrapped in a rain coat that shed bits of grey ash whenever he took a step. His voice was a rasp that made me think of snakes coils rubbing together.

“It’s perfect.” My voice sank to a whisper. It was perfect. “How did you get it?”

“With a little bit of time and effort I can get anything.” He chuckled.

I reached out as if to touch it and was stopped by a heavy hand on my wrist.

“You can have it once you’ve paid for it.”

Shaking off his hand, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Inside were a dozen photographs of Karen, my next door neighbor, with a couple of men. I felt a slight surge of guilt, twin to the one I had felt while taking the pictures, as I handed them over.

“Why do you want these?” I asked

He flipped through them and grinned. “Who wouldn’t? Don’t worry about it, you got what you wanted.”

It wasn’t until her suicide that I began to question the worth of the deal- and my worth as well.

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