Karl Abby’s face looks apprehensive, which was exactly what I feared. When my secretary called me last week to come home for a pack meeting, my original plan was to slip back home on the day of the meeting and come back to the city without uttering a word. I wanted to just get my duties over wit
Abby My apartment door shuts behind me with a satisfying click after a long day of being away from home. With a sigh, I throw my bag on the couch, and flop down beside it. But it’s not long before I’m on my feet again, pacing my apartment floor as I chew on my lower lip. Karl’s proposition still
Abby The day starts just as any normal day should: with the aroma of simmering tomato sauce and sizzling bacon filling the restaurant, and the sound of happy breakfast customers wafting through the air. But as I settle into the rhythm of another busy workday, something feels off. I can’t quite e
“Go home,” I interrupt, trying to hide the mild annoyance in my voice—not directed at her, but rather at yet another hitch in the day. “Feel better, Sarah.” “Thanks, Abby.” But then, to make matters worse, I’ve barely been in my office for another half hour when Ben, another server, appears in t
Abby My eyes snap open to discover that someone, in the span of what feels like five minutes, my office has grown dark. There’s a hand on my shoulder, and an all-too-familiar face—with a smirk on it, of course—staring down at me. “Sleepy?” Karl asks, his lips twitching into a grin. I shake my
We weave through the streets, the bright signs of late-night diners and convenience stores flashing by in a blur. For a moment, the weight of my job—the critics, the health inspectors, the constantly ringing phone—lifts, and I find myself lost in the rhythmic hum of the car’s engine. Karl finally
Abby The lunchtime rush is finally easing up. Much unlike yesterday, it’s been a smooth day so far, and I feel relieved; but that’s exactly when it happens. I’m scanning the restaurant floor, making sure everything is running smoothly, when I hear the crash. It’s a shocking mix of the sound of c
“Are you sure?” I ask, stunned. “I wouldn’t want to impose.” “It’s not an imposition,” the woman assures me. “It’s about time they learn a good lesson. You can’t go around causing trouble and not expect to deal with the consequences.” Just then, Karl emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on