Evan looked at the tiny memory card in his hand. It would be easy enough to lose it. Drop it down this storm drain. Flush it down the toilet.

Eat it.

But his fucking conscience wouldn’t let him do it.

He thought about ducking back in the restaurant and finishing his steak. God! That first bite just melted. He could see his plate through the window. He could see the chip in his wine glass where he had bit down. He took one last, luxurious pull on the cigar and flicked it in an arc of sparks and tobacco leaves.

He turned in a slow circle, looking at the city, the people around him. Each with their own little set of worries, each in their own world. The sharp corners of the memory card cut into his palm. Their worlds would soon combine, petty worries would dissolve. So much for bliss.

With a heavy breath, Evan turned and crossed the street, letting the greater good push him through the revolving door into the velvet hush of the lobby, one last time.

Someone waited for him by the elevator. “Going up?”